


Sandstorm

by Morgan Briarwood (morgan32)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-05-02 00:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5226326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan32/pseuds/Morgan%20Briarwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is no peace in the galaxy. War between the cartels is held off by a fragile network of treaties. Blair is a pawn of the Xantrisi cartel, held by them since childhood as insurance in the Avaline-Xantrisi accord. Captain Jim Ellison is the latest mercenary hired to extract Blair and return him to Avaline. But he has no idea how complicated a simple rescue mission is going to become. A space-opera AU (please read the note in part one).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Perchen (1)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress. It was going to be my TS Big Bang story but I'm having real difficulty writing. It's not that I don't know where the story is going - it's all in my head but I can't seem to get it onto the page. I have about 45k written. I am going to post gradually, one part a week, in the hope that this will kick my pen back into gear. But readers should be warned: I cannot guarantee this story will be finished.

The heat engulfed Jim the moment he stepped onto the spaceport gantry.

It was a dry heat that burned his skin as if he stood too close to a raging fire. After the cool, clean air of the _Anjelica_ , the atmosphere of Perchen was a shock to his system. When he took a breath the air seemed to scour his throat and scorch his lungs. Scents he could not identify assailed him.

The sooner he could complete his mission and get off this hunk of rock, the better.

Jim signalled to his team and set off along the gantry, expecting them to follow. He walked around the _Anjelica_ until he saw some of the spaceport staff opening the cargo hold. The figure was facing away from him. He or she wore the grey superskin that seemed to be the spaceport uniform and a band of cloth around a shaved head.

“Hey!” Jim called.

The figure turned away from the hold, revealing that she was a woman. She looked up to the gantry where Jim stood.

“Which way to the shuttle hangers?” he asked.

She moved toward the gantry. “Sectors are numbered by the gyro,” she called, gesturing. “Shuttles are ten through fourteen. This is seven.”

Jim nodded, appreciating the clear explanation. “Thank you.” He moved on, now confident he was going in the right direction. Without thinking, he swiped a hand across his forehead to wipe the sweat away.

By the time he located the right shuttle, the heat was more than annoyance. It was a threat. Sweat ran down Jim’s face in thick rivulets. It soaked into his clothing and dampened his hair. He felt the strain in his body: thirst, pounding heart, aching muscles. Jim had trained in every environment available. He could work in vacuum and zero gravity. He could work underwater, in freezing conditions and at altitude. He had trained in the desert, too, but even that had not prepared him for this. How long could he function like this?

The shuttle was smaller than Jim expected. He accessed it with the ambassadorial code and let the others board ahead of him. Climbing aboard he sealed the door and felt instant relief as the air system whirred to life. He resisted the urge to wipe the sweat from his face and turned to his team.

“We have an hour until the ambassador and the others come aboard. Vince, you and Dawn find the VIP suite and do a complete security sweep. Sylv, Randall, the rest of the shuttle. I’ll take the cockpit. And someone find out where our navigator is.”

They were a good team; they jumped to obey, leaving him alone for the moment. Jim was impressed. No matter how well trained, not many experienced teams would work so smoothly for a C.O. they’d never met before this trip.

The cockpit seated four: pilot, co-pilot and two others. One of those extra seats would be for the navigator; Jim planned to take the other himself. Jim sat in the pilot’s seat and set the computer for a full security sweep. He would rather trust his people; a computer, after all, could be compromised easily. But it was foolish not to use every tool at his disposal. Jim was responsible for the ambassador’s safety, at least until they reached the Archon’s palace. Not that he was expecting any real threat: he’d chosen this job because it was routine and predictable. Even so, he checked the cockpit himself: sweeping beneath the seats, opening every cover plate to check the circuitry and running his fingertips around every seal. He found nothing wrong.

Jim returned to the pilot’s seat. He looked over the controls, familiarising himself with the layout though he wouldn’t be piloting today. He was about to initiate the pre-flight sequence when the trans chimed.

“Captain, the navigator is here,” Randall’s voice came over the trans.

“About time,” Jim answered. “Bring him to the cockpit. Any sign of the flight crew?”

“They’re aboard. Waiting on you.”

“Send them though, too. I was about to do pre-flight but the pilot should do it himself.”

“Will do, Cap. On our way.”

Moments later the cockpit door dilated and the navigator walked in. Jim’s first impression was one of great age, but the man didn’t move like an old man. He wore the long, pale robe so common on this planet: a lot of gauzy material draped in loops and folds. A thin loop covered his short-cropped, sand-coloured hair. He smelled Jim studied his face more closely. He wasn’t as old as Jim first thought. His skin was aged and dry, which made him appear old, but the neck, the eyes – they were young. He was thirty at most.

The navigator offered both of his hands, palms upward. “I am Asir Ral. I’ve been assigned as your guide.”

Jim, recalling the ritual from his research into Perchen culture, laid his palms across the other man’s. “Captain James Hawdon. I’m heading security for the ambassador.” He saw the crew approaching and stepped back to let Ral enter. “This is our pilot.”

Ral offered the same ritual gesture to pilot and co-pilot. “The sandstorm fills the Tarkan Flats. You will need to approach the oasis from the north.”

Jim tensed. Sandstorms on Perchen were no joke. “”How bad is the storm?”

Ral turned to Jim. “The reason flights on Perchen require the presence of a guide is because the storm is very difficult to predict. We are experienced in monitoring the storms in real time and can guide your shuttle away from danger.”

Jim nodded; he knew all that. “And this storm?” he pressed.

“Captain, there is only one storm. It never ends, it only moves.”

“Then let me clarify. I need to know whether the storm will remain between here and the oasis.”

Ral was silent for a moment. “Even I can’t predict more than three to four hours ahead with any accuracy. It will move close to the oasis as it leaves the Tarkan Flats, but after that...who can say? It is most unpredictable near the oasis.”

That wasn’t what Jim wanted to hear, but he nodded. Remembering, he offered a small bow. “Thank you for your service, Asir Ral.”

Ral made no reply, as was customary. Jim glanced at the others. “I have to get the ambassador settled. Page me when you’re ready to lift.”

*

It wasn’t until the flight across the desert that Jim truly began to appreciate the challenge he had taken on when he agreed to this mission. He had thought he was well prepared. His research had been thorough and meticulous, but just as knowing that the average surface temperature on Perchen was fifty degrees did not prepare him for _feeling_ it, knowledge of the terrain from maps and holos was nothing like the experience of flying over Perchen.

All he saw for three hours was desert. The spaceport was built at a high altitude so the desert surrounding it was reddish-brown rock worn smooth by centuries of wear. At the base of the mountains, great gouges in the hillsides were all that remained of the planet’s first mineral mining operation, famous but long-abandoned as no longer viable.

Then they were flying over the sand dunes: mile after endless mile of ochre sand in constantly shifting patterns. Beautiful, but deadly.

Perchen had very little water: barely enough to sustain life. The system had three suns and Perchen’s orbit brought it too close to two of them. If it wasn’t for the extremely rare and valuable minerals no one would have bothered to terraform it. But the mines were Perchen’s wealth.

The shuttle turned north west to avoid the Flats and the deadly sandstorm, but they could all see the storm raging as they passed it. Jim saw a massive cloud of sand whirling in constant motion. There were flashes of colour within it, like flames. It looked like a mushroom cloud from a nuclear blast, but this cloud would never rise or dissipate. It simply raged. Any person caught in that storm would be flayed alive in minutes. Any normal shuttle that tried to fly through it would be torn apart in the turbulence. Unless a ship could be designed for those conditions, Jim thought. If the navigator spoke the truth, this storm was a perpetual feature of Perchen. It made sense that the Archons would have found a way. He would have to look into that…

Throughout the flight, Jim saw no sign of life on the surface. Yet he knew the planet had an ecosystem, and people did live outside the cities. There had to be some life out there.

When the navigator appeared to be free, he asked, “Does anyone live out here?”

The co-pilot gave him the look the question deserved, but Jim kept his eyes on the navigator.

“Some few live at the edges of the dunes,” Ral said, “but the sand is not a place people can live. The native villages are below ground in the rocky hills.”

Jim suppressed a snort at the word _native_ : there were no indigenous sentients on Perchen. The planet had been terraformed from a lifeless rock six centuries ago. Those who called themselves ‘natives’ were the descendants of the first mining communities, and they were as human as Jim was. The thought stuttered in his mind and he mentally corrected himself: as human as Jim’s _people_ were. Jim was somewhat less than one hundred per cent human; a genetic quirk he would always resent.

People lived below ground. Jim dragged his thoughts back to the original question. Of course, that was the only way humans could survive this heat. If there was subterranean water, there could be a whole ecosystem sheltered from the blazing sun. But those underground habitations had to be extremely well hidden. Jim hadn’t spotted any sign of vents or chimneys.

The navigator returned to the terrain map. “Turn east here, then south in twenty klicks if we encounter no more harsh winds.”

Jim studied the map over his shoulder, relieved that they were almost at the oasis. Once they were admitted to the Archon’s palace, under the diplomatic code the Archon’s people would become responsible for the safety of the ambassador. Jim would no longer have that responsibility and he would be free to take up his real mission here. Of course, the ambassador did not know her protector intended to abandon her at the earliest opportunity. It was likely she wouldn’t know until Jim was finished. He would need the illusion of being part of the diplomatic party to blend in at the palace.

It was then he saw the light ahead of them: a distant point, nova-bright, at ground level. Jim rose and leaned over the co-pilot’s seat for a better look.

“It is the dome of the Archon’s palace,” the navigator said.

“It’s illuminated?”

“No, it is made of polished copper. What you see is the reflection of the suns.”

It was magnificent. Even from a distance, as the details became clear, the oasis and palace were a wonder. Slim mosaic-clad columns and soaring arches supported domed ceilings and stained glass panels. The palace was constructed in concentric circles. Outside, the town buildings housed servants, tradesmen and others who supported life inside the palace. The outer ring of the palace was open to the public and was where high ranking staff, scientists and engineers were housed. Only those invited could pass to the second circle, the largest part of the palace and where the ambassador and her party would be housed for their stay. Finally, the centre of the palace was a high tower, topped by that incandescent copper dome. Jim couldn’t look at it for long, it was so bright.

*

From the ground, the Archon’s palace was, if possible, even more spectacular.

Though it was still incredibly hot, cool air circulated from vents in the pillars, making it bearable. Light sparkled on the many mosaics, creating dancing patterns of colour on the walls and floors, on the faces and clothing of the people.

As he walked beside the ambassador from the shuttle to the second circle entrance, Jim tried to take in as much detail as he could. Most people wore the flowing robes and veils that were the traditional garb of Perchen, but Jim saw a wide variety of fashions and uniforms. He heard music from several directions and the hum of many voices speaking several languages. He noted the security, too. There were floating eyes everywhere as well as uniformed guards.

At the entrance, they had to pass through a weapons scanner. Jim let the ambassador go through first. For her, the scan was routine. While she stood in the scanner, Jim surrendered his guns to the palace guard, then took the ambassador’s place in the scanner. Though the tension in his neck and shoulders felt almost painful, Jim’s countermeasures did their job perfectly and the scanner detected nothing on him.

“ID,” the guard demanded.

Jim handed over his credentials. The guard studied them, but not closely enough to make Jim nervous.

“When do I get my guns back?” Jim asked.

“When you leave.” The guard placed the two guns into a secure box. He spun the lock then slid a small metal disk out of the mechanism. “Hand this in when you leave. The case can’t be opened without it.” He offered the token and Jim’s credentials.

It was unlikely he would get a chance to reclaim the guns. Jim didn’t like losing them, but it was better to surrender a weapon than give them an excuse to search him. Palace guards would expect a security chief to be armed. If they knew who Jim really was, they would expect him to be carrying far more than a couple of guns.

He was about to put his credentials away when the wallet was plucked out of his hand.

The man was big, broad-shouldered and muscled, his skin much darker than was usual on Perchen. He handed the I.D. Back to the palace guard. “Run it again,” he said curtly.

The ambassador turned to them. “Is there a problem?” she asked.

Jim watched tensely. The guard hadn’t run his credentials before; he just did a visual check. Now he slid the card into a scanner and waited. It wouldn’t matter: the I.D. and credentials were genuine. But the identity behind them was not. James Hawdon didn’t exist. But the only way they could uncover his true identity was to run his DNA and that would take too long to be worth the trouble, since neither his cover nor his real identity could be found in any local database. Even if they unmasked him, Jim had a story to cover it. Of course he changed his name; with the notoriety he had, how else was he to get work?

The guard looked up from the scanner when the ambassador interrupted. “No, ambassador, there’s no problem.” He gave Jim’s ID to the other man. “It checks out, sir.”

Sir? Who was this man? Jim assessed him quickly. Not a Perchen native. Military bearing. Clothing similar to the guard’s uniform but not the same. A higher rank? No, there was no visible insignia. A different service, then. Or a private contractor.

“James Hawdon,” the man read from the I.D. “Captain, retired, it says here.”

“That’s right,” Jim agreed.

“You’re young to retire.”

“The Micrea fleet has mandatory retirement after fifteen years service.”

“Unless you’re ranked captain or above,” the man pointed out.

“I never captained a ship,” Jim lied. “The promotion was on retirement. It’s on record.”

“I’m sure it is, Captain Hawdon,” the man said, putting enough stress on the name to show he was unconvinced. “Carry on.”

Jim accepted his ID back and wondered if that would end the matter. He was going to have to be very careful. They shouldn’t be able to find out who he was. Jim’s cover was good.

*

It was easy to identify those who worked in the palace. Servants wore full robes with headscarves or superskin covered with a light tunic, but always the colour of the desert sand. Security staff wore military uniforms the red-brown colour of the mountains with insignia displayed on the shoulders and breast. Though they all wore the same uniform, there seemed to be a distinction between regular security and those who held military rank: all wore guns but the military also wore swords, and though Jim didn’t see anyone draw a weapon he had the distinct impression those swords were not just ceremonial.

After giving up his weapons, Jim collected his travel trunk which was scanned and tuned over to him without question. A military guard – if Jim was reading the insignia correctly, he was the equivalent of a corporal – escorted Jim to the room he had been assigned. He had a small, private bedroom, but was expected to share facilities with five others. Jim didn’t mind that, though he wondered uneasily what the facilities would be like. In a place where water was so scarce, he doubted he would find a shower.

Left alone, Jim explored the bedroom first. The door was solid and could be locked from the inside. The bed – large enough for three or four, which made him wonder – dominated the room. He tested the mattress and found it comfortable, but the ornate frame concealed an eye and ear. Taclights floated beneath the domed ceiling, at just the right height for Jim to reach up and touch them without stretching. No doubt some of the floating globes also concealed eyes and ears. That was no surprise. Any guest here would be monitored, but that didn’t mean anyone was actually watching or listening. It would take too many people to closely watch every guest in the palace. If Jim could succeed in looking like just another lackey to the ambassador, he wouldn’t be worth the effort. They might watch the recordings afterward, but by then it wouldn’t matter.

Jim lifted his trunk onto the table and unpacked his clothing. He hung his formal outfit up to air, grimacing a little at the thought of having to wear it. He hadn’t chosen that costume for himself. He put the rest of his clothing away in the wall closet. Beneath the clothing was Jim’s equipment. Much of it was in pieces that would need to be assembled, each component designed to look like something innocent. The holomap was in one piece, though, and since they had let him keep it, either it was permitted or the technology was blocked. There was only one way to find out. Jim put the trunk away under the table, placed the holomap on the table surface and activated it. A map of the palace appeared above the device. Jim rotated the image to orient himself, then set it to update mode. If it was working, the device would scan as much of the building as was within its range and update its saved map, adding detail. That would take some time, though. There wasn’t much for Jim to do until –

The door chimed.

“Come in,” Jim invited, but the door was already opening.

Francis, the ambassador’s aide, took a single step into Jim’s room. “She wants to see you,” he said.

*

“You sent for me, ambassador,” Jim said by way of greeting.

The ambassador rose, raising the hood of her robe as she moved toward him. “I did. Please, come in. I asked to see you here because it’s the only place we can speak privately.”

It was true that the other rooms were probably monitored, but Jim didn’t share the ambassador’s confidence that her own privacy would be respected. Then he saw the device on the table: an atmo-scrambler. So they were indeed in private.

“Do we need privacy?” he asked cautiously.

“Unlike most people in my position, I take the time to read the contracts I sign. I find it instructive. Your contract, for example, was extremely specific.”

Jim felt his right hand twitch toward his dart gun. He curbed the impulse. There were always better options.

“I want the truth from you now,” the ambassador demanded. “What you tell me and whether I believe you will determine what happens next.”

Jim ignored the veiled threat. He would not lie, but there were truths he couldn’t tell.

“You used me to get here. I allowed it because someone very highly placed made sure I had no alternative. Do you know who that was?”

“No.” It was the truth, so far as it went. Jim couldn’t have identified the individual who ensured he got this job, but he knew who hired him, so he knew where the trail would end.

“You don’t know which Cartel you work for?”

“Of course I do. That isn’t what you asked.”

“Which Cartel sent you here?”

Jim sighed. “Avaline,” he admitted.

Understanding dawned in the ambassador’s dark eyes. “Ah, I see. The ward.”

It was not a question, so Jim remained mute.

Her eyes narrowed. “Do they want the ward dead?”

Jim couldn’t entirely conceal his surprise. That possibility hadn’t occurred to him. Startled, he replayed several conversations in his memory and realised he couldn’t entirely rule it out. He answered carefully.

“They want him _back_. What happens to him after that, I didn’t ask. That’s not my problem.” He spoke coldly. People expected him to be cold and heartless. But the truth was he would not have taken this job if he believed his mission would end in murder. In spite of his reputation, he was _not_ an assassin.

“What’s your plan?”

Jim shook his head. “I’m not going to answer that.”

“Do you intend to continue to masquerade as one of my people?”

Damn. “Yes. For tonight. Perhaps a few days more.” And now Jim had no choice but to move fast. After seeing the terrain he would have to cross to escape, Jim wanted to give himself time to plan his journey. Now he had lost that time. He could not risk a betrayal.

The ambassador turned to the table and picked up a box. She upended it and a glowing ball dropped into her palm. The colours shifted within it for a few moments, then settled into a soft white. She offered the ball to him.

“A lie detector?” Jim made no move to take it.

“Hold it and give me your word you mean no harm to the ward.”

It seemed a reasonable request, and one that cost him nothing since it would be the truth. Jim took the ball and again colours swirled within as it adjusted to his system. He held it up as it settled to white. “I swear I mean him no harm. I’m being paid to see him safely returned to his family.” The ball remained a soft white, indicating Jim was telling the truth. Not that it made much difference. Jim had practised until he could beat even the most sophisticated lie detector and this was a long way from the best.

The ambassador took the ball back and held it in her own hand. “Then I will say nothing until I am forced to,” she offered. The ball remained white.

It wasn’t much, but Jim took it. “Thank you,” he said simply.

“Good luck,” she said, and Jim noted with amusement that the ball flickered red before she dropped it back into its box. “You’ll need it,” she added...and that, at least, Jim thought was the unvarnished truth.


	2. Perchen (2)

The ambassador’s tacit endorsement of his mission did give Jim one advantage: it secured him an invitation to the evening banquet. The downside was the ridiculous outfit he would have to wear. Formal wear meant one of three things: military dress uniform, if you were entitled to wear it; the traditional formal wear of your home planet; or the formal wear of the planet you were on. Jim could not wear the uniform he was entitled to without blowing his cover and the formal wear traditional on Cascadion would have been impossibly hot here. So his only real option was Perchen formal wear, which was what the embassy procured for all of the ambassador’s staff.

Jim wanted to attend the banquet, even though his first sight of the formal outfit gave him an impulse to refuse the invitation. The banquet would be his first opportunity to get a look at his target. He wouldn’t be seated anywhere near the top table, so he was unlikely to be able to make contact, but he would take what he could get.

The blue superskin pants fit so tightly around his waist, hips and thighs that he felt naked. The pants flared outward around his ankles, though, which made it possible to conceal a weapon strapped to each calf. His shirt was white, a sheer material worn loosely with many slashes so his skin showed through with every movement. He thought he looked ridiculous, but had to acknowledge the practicality. The light material was comfortable to wear in the heat. Jim added a wide jewelled belt – the jewels were spatial recorders – and soft shoes for his feet. The ensemble was finished with a lightweight cloak of white shot with silver. The cloak was warming, which seemed redundant, but if the banquet went on into the night the temperature would drop sharply.

True night lasted barely two hours on Perchen, because the suns rose and set at different times. Only for a brief span would there be no sun in the sky, but for that short time the air cooled and the desert chilled to freezing. The cold could be as deadly as the heat.

The servant who waited outside to escort Jim to the banquet was so silent Jim wondered if he could be mute. He had no way to ask, though. Jim was led to a courtyard where other low-ranked guests waited.

As he entered the courtyard, he was offered a glass of water. Jim accepted it gratefully and sipped from the glass. The water was clear and cool. He remembered then, what the giving of water meant on Perchen. It was traditional when beginning a meal with strangers, to begin with water, but traditionally a bare thimbleful would be offered. Water was so precious and rare, the gift meant life, trust, sacrifice and much more. To offer a full glass was an extravagance, and a great compliment. There was someone here, perhaps several people, whom the Archon wanted very much to impress.

Jim savoured the cool water while he waited. For most of the guests, this was an opportunity to mingle and get to know new contacts. Jim wasn’t a diplomat, but when a woman with bright blue hair struck up a conversation with him, he did his best to feign interest while he studied the people all around them.

Finally, they were seated and Jim was pleased to be placed far from his blue haired interrogatrix. He was, as he’d expected, a long distance from the top table, but the tables were set in a large circle so he had a good view of the people seated there. Jim recognised the ambassador, of course, and the Archon, but there were other familiar faces. There was no one who would recognise him in return, but he saw representatives from several of the powerful cartels.

There was also an empty space at the top table...and the one person Jim needed to see was missing.

The first course of the banquet was served: a bowl of chilled fruit. The fruit was tart and slightly bitter: an unusual taste but Jim found he liked it. He ate slowly, glancing at the top table as often as he could. The ambassador knew who his target was. Had she betrayed him? Was that why that chair was empty?

The second course was a nest of crisp, green fronds surrounding thinly sliced strips of raw, marinaded meat. It was served with a drink Jim thought was milk, but if so it wasn’t milk from any animal Jim was familiar with. It had a strong, almost sour taste and Jim wanted to refuse it. But he thought again of how precious water was on this planet. He might not like the taste, but it was liquid and would quench his thirst.

It was as the servers were clearing away the second course that the large doors behind the top table swung open. Two uniformed men entered, gold insignia on their shoulders and swords at their belts. Between them walked a third person and, three paces behind, a fourth. The fourth man was the one who questioned Jim’s I.D. when he entered the palace. Tonight he wore the same uniform as the other guards, without insignia but with a gold sash that suggested he was in charge.

It was clear the new arrival did not want to enter the hall if it took three guards to get him there. This could only be the person Jim was waiting for.

Long, curly hair, glossy black and scattered with a rainbow of jewels. Eyes blue as sapphires, high cheekbones and full, sensual lips. Understated cosmetics: kohl lining those sapphire eyes, a dusting of gold along the cheekbones, perhaps a stain on the lips. Jim’s dossier identified his target as male, but looking at the person being escorted to the top table, Jim found himself doubting that. There was something about this person that seemed sexually ambiguous...perhaps deliberately so. The angles of the sullen face had a masculine cast, but the clothing was unisex: the long, loose robe worn by so many people on Perchen. There was more jewellery than most men of Jim’s experience would wear, but this wasn’t Jim’s home planet. Fashions might be very different here. Blair’s height didn’t help: a bit short for a man, but tall for a woman. The robe made it difficult to tell if there were breasts, or a man’s flat chest beneath the folds. Could Jim’s intel be wrong? Did it matter?

Blair was a prisoner of the Xantrisi cartel. He (she?) had been held by them since childhood: a ward, a hostage or a prisoner of war, depending on whom you asked. Taken during a war and kept as insurance for the treaty that ended the fighting. Now the Avaline cartel wanted Blair back. It might be for his own good – that was what Jim believed when he agreed to take on this mission. Or Avaline might be preparing for another war and wanted this leverage out of their way. Jim was just a hired mercenary: their reasons were not his concern.

A young man seated close to the Archon and wearing the Archon’s colours, said something to Blair. Blair had been about to sit down. At the words he flinched and straightened as if waiting for permission, or instructions, to sit. Jim couldn’t hear what was being said and was too far away to lip-read Blair’s reply to the young man, but it was clear Blair wasn’t happy. More words were exchanged and Blair sat.

At some invisible signal, the next course of the banquet was served...to everyone except Blair. He was left seated behind an empty plate and empty glass. Everyone else resumed their meal. After a few minutes, one of the guests at the top table spoke to Blair. Until then, Blair had been gazing blankly ahead. As soon as someone spoke to him it was as if Blair switched on – suddenly he was smiling, eyes sparkling. He was the entertainment.

Jim barely tasted the spiced grain salad placed before him. He knew he was staring at Blair, but he couldn’t stop.

Something about the scene disturbed him deeply, but he couldn’t quite find the puzzle piece that would let him figure out what it was.

*

Nights were extremely short on Perchen: with three suns, each rising and setting at different hours, dusk and dawn could be lengthy but there were only two hours of full darkness, with no sun in the sky. But Perchen had no moons, nothing to reflect sunlight onto its dark zone, so darkness was very dark. Unfortunately, the nights didn’t last long enough for the oasis to get truly cold. The temperature did drop, but – in the oasis city, at least, where buildings and technology helped to retain the heat – it remained very warm by Jim’s standards.

As he pulled himself onto the balcony, the sweat made his hand slip on the metal. He corrected his grip but the adrenaline rush sent his heart racing. For a moment, he hung off the balcony, acutely aware of the empty air below him and the hard rock below that. Then the moment passed and he hauled himself up and over. He heard a faint _thump_ as his body hit the floor and he froze. He shifted into the shadows and waited, doing his best to control his breathing. The climb had been more difficult than he expected. The stealth suit he wore ensured he would be invisible to most surveillance and it was designed for desert conditions, but yet again, the heat proved more than he was prepared for. Maybe he was getting too old for this.

He had been there for just a few moments when he became aware of voices. He steadied his breathing and moved closer to the open window.

The first thing he noticed when he looked into the room was the books. Shelves lined the wall opposite, floor to ceiling, and filled with books. Beneath the shelves was a large, ornate bed, draped with gauzy silks. A single taclight floated near the ceiling; in its soft glow, Jim could see the figures of two people on the bed. They both had their backs to the window, but the one closest to him was certainly Blair.

Blair had a lover. That complicated things.

The lover was upset, sobbing quietly in Blair’s arms. Jim moved a little closer; they were too absorbed in each other to notice him.

Blair stroked the body he held. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He spoke softly, but with real regret.

His lover gave no response, but moved slightly in Blair’s embrace. Blair held his lover closer and kissed the exposed shoulder and neck, lifted a lock of braided hair to kiss ear and cheek.

Jim started to move away. He didn’t really want to watch them have sex and it appeared they were headed that way. But curiosity held him. Blair had apologised for something. Jim wanted to know if this was an abusive relationship. But as the gentle caresses continued he felt more and more like a voyeur. But they didn’t go beyond a few kisses.

Some time later, Blair murmured that he was going to...something, and he rose from the bed, pulling a length of cloth around his waist. The movement gave Jim his first clear look at the lover. He lay still on the bed, his back to the window. His back was covered with red stripes. There was no blood or broken skin, but the long weals looked painful nonetheless. When Blair returned to the bed, he sat up, the movement slow and awkward, and Jim saw his face for the first time. He was young. No older than twenty, his body still youthfully slim. His skin was the rusty-tan shade so common among the descendants of the original Perchen settlers. His hair was styled in many thin braids, each one tipped with shiny beads that brushed his shoulders as he moved. He winced and half-raised a hand as if to pull the braids away from his skin. It appeared the movement hurt more than the braids touching the bruised skin because he let his hand fall again.

Blair moved the braids instead. He knelt on the bed and touched the lower part of the young man’s arm, where the flesh was unmarked. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

The young man bowed his head, the braids falling forward to cover his face. “I know you feel it, too,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“I always do,” Blair said, opening the pot of salve he held, “but that can’t make it okay. You were punished for my mistake.”

“Mistake?”

“I was studying. I lost track of time.”

“Should I take your books away?”

“I would only find more. Forgive me instead.”

“Always.”

Blair began to stroke the salve along the young man’s wounds. “You shouldn’t,” he said quietly.

“I know,” he answered, and both of them fell silent as Blair continued spreading the salve.

Jim understood the words, but just like the scene at the banquet, he felt he was missing something important. The young man had been hurt because Blair was late for the banquet. That much Jim understood. But why? Why not punish Blair directly? True, Blair was a hostage and in theory that meant he couldn’t be harmed, but those injuries weren’t disfiguring. It could have been done to Blair without breaking the treaty. And why punish Blair at all? Being late, or choosing not to attend a relatively routine diplomatic dinner hardly seemed cause for such an extreme reaction. There was something else going on here, and Jim didn’t like mysteries getting in the way of his purpose.

Blair took his time over the task. Even from the distance Jim could see his touch was gentle, meticulously covering each wound. The other man’s expression relaxed as he worked.

Finally, Blair set the pot down. “How is it feeling now, Ash?” he asked, giving Jim a name at last.

Ash rolled his shoulders cautiously. “Better,” he agreed.

“Can you lie back?”

Ash answered by turning around to lie down as instructed. The salve must have been a strong analgesic because although the welts still looked painful, his movements were already easier and he was able to lie back. Blair moved to straddle his legs. His fingers traced light circles on Ash’s chest.

“Relax, Ash. Don’t think about the pain. Just think about my touch.” He pulled gently on a gold ring in his lover’s nipple.

Ash sighed and his head fell back into the pillow. He arched his back, just a little, stretching into Blair’s touch.

Blair pulled harder on the nipple ring. “Reach for me. Relax and reach for me.” His tone was hypnotic.

Jim didn’t see Ash move, but moments later, still in that even, hypnotic tone, Blair said, “That’s good, hold on to me, now.” He ran his fingers lightly over Ash’s chest, upward to his neck, tracing the curve of his throat. “My strength is yours,” he said softly. He bent to kiss his chest. His tongue circled the nipple.

Ash moaned.

Blair spoke softly, his lips just above the skin. “My strength is yours. Your pain is mine.” He licked around Ash’s nipple again. He raised his head, looking up to Ash’s face. “Slowly, please. I know it’s bad, but try.” He kissed Ash’s skin again, moving lower. “My strength, my breath is yours. Breathe with me, Ash.” He kissed a slow path down Ash’s chest to his stomach.

Jim couldn’t move. He wasn’t sure what he was witnessing. Lovemaking, yes, but something more than that. Something tickled at his memory, just out of reach. He had heard something...once...

Blair drew Ash’s cock into his mouth. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked. Ash arched into him, mumbling words Jim couldn’t hear. He reached down to touch Blair’s head, guiding him. Jim watched, reluctantly fascinated. He couldn’t look away, but it wasn’t the sex that fascinated him. There was more to this, and he  _almost_ understood it.

Ash cried out and his fingers clenched in Blair’s hair. In the exact moment Ash orgasmed, Jim saw a pattern of stripes appear on Blair’s back: a pattern identical to the wounds Ash bore. It was clearly visible for a few seconds, then, as Ash’s body relaxed and Blair raised his head, the marks slowly faded. It wasn’t a mistake or an illusion. Somehow, Blair had absorbed Ash’s injury. Jim remembered Blair’s words: _my strength is yours, your pain is mine_ and he had no doubt that if Ash turned his back to the window now, Jim would see it was clean and unmarked. How was it possible? Nothing in his dossier had indicated Blair was...different.

The sky was turning the deep blue that indicated the short night was coming to an end. Jim had to leave before he was seen. He risked lingering just a little longer, hoping the lovers would fall asleep. They lay entwined on the bed. When it seemed they were sleeping, Jim moved back to the balcony edge.

Vertigo swirled his vision for a moment, but he had no need to fear the climb. He’d made it up, he could make it back down.

“Who are you?”

Jim spun around. Blair stood in the window arch, that same sheer silk around his waist, but otherwise entirely nude. This close to him, Jim could see that the weals he had absorbed from his lover had not, as Jim first thought, completely faded. Blair’s skin bore a faint pattern of yellowed stripes, like old bruises.

“Who are you?” Blair demanded again. There was no fear in his voice or his expression.

Jim reached into his belt and took out the ring he had been given to prove his identity. He offered it to Blair. “I was sent to find you.”

Blair moved a single step onto the balcony and took the ring from Jim. It was a platinum circle with coloured jewels embedded into it. One of the jewels was probably a data chip but Jim had been told the colours of the jewels themselves were the message. Blair studied it for a moment then slipped it onto his left thumb.

He leaned back against the window arch. “You’ve found me. So, what now?”

Jim had only a moment to decide, but so much had changed while he had been standing on that balcony that he mentally threw out his original plan. He was going to have to improvise, and quickly. Jim did not understand everything he had just witnessed but it was a safe conclusion that Blair wasn’t a willing guest here. Jim would give him the truth, as much as was safe to share.

“I’m here to take you home to Avaline,” Jim said.

Blair went very still for a moment. He looked back over his shoulder to where his lover slept. “Can you take both of us?” he asked. The naked hope was painful to listen to.

That question, at least, was predictable. “I should say no. It will make it much harder.”

“I can’t leave without Ash. They will kill him.” Blair spoke in a matter-of-fact way, almost cold. Jim wasn’t fooled. Blair was scared.

“I guessed that. But you have to understand what you’re asking. If I try to take you both, we could all die.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t understand. I _can’t_ leave without him, man! I’ll die!”

The histrionics were not going to help. On the other hand, escape would be a lot easier if he had Blair’s cooperation. So Jim nodded. “If I agree to take you both, will you help?”

“If I can,” Blair answered instantly. “What do you need?”

“I don’t know yet. My plan was for two. I’ll have to figure out a new plan now.”

“Do you have a way off Perchen? A ship?”

“Yes, but no ship can reach us inside the shield.”

“I know someone who might help get us out of the oasis.”

Jim looked and the rapidly lightening sky. “Is there some way I can talk to you without climbing up here again?”

Blair smiled. He moved to the balcony rail. “Honestly, no. There’s no safe way. But I’ll be on display again tomorrow after the negotiations. You could try to talk to me then.” He leaned over the rail, looking down at the sheer drop.

“Be careful!” Jim reached out and grabbed his arm. His hand touched bare flesh and...something happened. Jim felt something like heat pass between them with the touch. For a moment he thought the sun had risen because everything seemed clearer, colours brighter. Blair’s eyes were startlingly blue, wide with shock and Jim saw every detail, every fleck in his iris, each individual eyelash. He smelled the salve on Blair’s fingers, earthy and herbal, and the lingering scents of sex and sweat. 

Jim caught his breath, his heart pounding, his body heating. He pulled his hand away from Blair’s skin as fast as if he’d been burned. He blinked and the bright vision faded. It was still dark and everything looked and smelled normal again.

Blair was still staring at him. “What are you?” he whispered.

_Right back at you_ , Jim thought, but what he said was, “I’m just a hired merc.”

Blair shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. I...” he hesitated. “You’d better go,” he said abruptly. “They patrol at dawn.”

“Until tomorrow, then,” Jim said, glad for the excuse to leave. He swung himself over the balcony edge.

*

When he reached his room Jim was desperate for a very cold shower. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. Bathroom facilities consisted of sand-scrub or alcohol for disinfection. He scrubbed as best he could, until his skin was pink and glowing. It might have cleaned his skin, but the psychic residue of the encounter would be harder to shift.

He dressed in his coolest clothing and assembled the communicator in his trunk. He walked over to his window and sat down on the ledge. He turned on the communicator, holding it so the device was just outside the walls of the building.

“Ellison to _Panther_.” He waited tensely.

After what felt like far too long, he got a reply. “Connor here. About time you checked in.”

Jim let out his breath in relief. “I’ve been busy. Where are you?”

“Where you told us to wait.”

The  _Panther_ was already in the system! That was the best news Jim could hope for. “Are you secure?”

“The board is green, partner. What’s your status?”

“I’m where I need to be,” he reported, “and I made contact. But I need to accelerate the timetable, and there are complications.”

“What do you need?”

“A vehicle that can cross the desert on the ground.”

Connor snorted. “On the ground, are you crazy? It would take a tank to withstand those conditions and that would be a slow-moving oven. There’s nothing.”

“Connor, that doesn’t add up. The Perchens must have something. Find it.”

She sighed. “Roger that. Anything else?”

“Give a message to Cassie for me. I need information about people who can heal through touch or sex. Real healing, not con artists.”

“Wilco. You’ll have it next time you check in. Make it soon, partner. We’re worried up here.”

“Roger that,” Jim answered.

“ _Panther_ out.”

Jim turned the communicator off and relaxed where he sat. Just knowing the  _Panther_ was within range made him feel a lot better about his mission. His big challenge was getting out of the oasis with two passengers. If he could get far enough out into the desert, the  _Panther_ could extract them.

But how in the world was he going to manage that?

 


	3. Perchen (3)

Jim slept for a few hours. When he woke he checked in with the  _Panther_ again. This time Taggart answered his trans.

“I’ve got some info from Connor, but she ordered me to tell you if you try what she thinks your planning, she’ll kill you.”

Jim grinned. “Connor has no idea what I’m planning. Can you send me the specs?”

“Sending. It’s called a sandcrawler and they weren’t designed for Perchen conditions; they were built for the Jora mines. They’re ugly and slow, but they can make it through almost anything. The original Perchen colonists bought sixteen of them and reverse engineered the design. Jim, the sandcrawler can get through anything but that doesn’t mean a person riding inside would survive.”

“Then what’s the point of having them here?”

“That, partner, will have to be my best guess.”

Taggart’s best guess was better than most people’s facts. “I’ll take a guess.”

“Well, we don’t have much info about what modifications the Perchens made. I’ve only got the Jova specs. I think it would be possible to add a coolant system and water tanks, but every adaption would slow it down, and these things aren’t fast to begin with. It’s more likely they designed an autopilot to they can travel unmanned.”

Jim had a sinking feeling. “How slow are they?” His handheld had finished downloading, so he opened the file.

“Nine to eleven M/S.”

“Shit, Joel, I can run faster than that!”

“Not through one of Perchen’s storms, you can’t.”

Point taken. Jim grimaced. “Do you know where I can get one?”

“No idea. They’re ore transports and there’s no mine at the oasis. You could be out of luck.”

Jim grimaced. “Alright. Thanks anyway.”

“But if you’re looking for a way to cross the desert there’s something else you could look into.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, Perchen doesn’t have much by way of sport. I guess in that heat most athletics is out.”

“Get to the point, Taggart.”

“Right. There’s a contest on Perchen every two years. A race. Teams have to build their own vehicles and trek across the desert. The route takes a couple of weeks. It’s a pretty big deal.”

“Unless this race is about to start, what’s the point of this story?”

“No, this is an off-year. The point, partner, is that anyone who successfully completed that race owns a vehicle capable of crossing the desert. They’ll be famous, locally, so shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

“Got any names for me?”

“Several, but none in the oasis yet. I’ll keep...” Taggart stopped talking abruptly.

For a moment, Jim tensed, but then a new voice came on the trans. “Jim, about the healing.”

He smiled to himself. “Connor, shouldn’t you be off-shift?”

“Do you want Cassie’s intel or not?”

Oh, yeah, she should be off-shift. Connor didn’t get that irritable unless she was tired. “I apologise, Megan. What did the doc find?”

“Actually not much. Touch healing is a mutation that shows up on several worlds, but Perchen isn’t one of them. If you want more we need more detail about the person or the type of healing.”

_Avaline_ , _not Perchen_ . Jim hesitated to reveal the healer was their target. “The healing was sexual. It looked as if the healer absorbed the injury from the subject and then healed his own body.”

“That doesn’t fit any of the common healing mutations. We’ll keep looking.” Connor yawned.

Jim chuckled. “I can’t even see you and I can tell you’re dead on your feet, Connor. I do want the intel, but leave it to Cass. Healing is her area. And it can wait until I’m back aboard. Meantime, get some shut-eye.”

“Aye, aye, Captain. _Panther_ out.”

*

After a light breakfast, Jim checked in with the ambassador’s aide, for protocol’s sake and to keep up appearances. As expected, he was told he wasn’t needed. He was free to leave the palace and explore the town.

A market was often the best place to pick up local intel. Unlike more expensive stores, market traders depended on their ability to talk to customers and would chat about almost anything to someone who was happy to buy.

Jim purchased clothing first. Although the long robes commonly worn on the streets could not give him the look of a local – his hair and skin gave him away as a recent arrival from a water-rich planet – they would help him blend in. The clothing was more complex than he thought: loops of lightweight cloth arranged in loose knots to cover his entire body. It satisfied modesty, but more importantly it covered the skin, protecting the wearer from the sun, yet also allowed air to flow through the loops to cool the skin. It was very efficient. The man who sold him the clothing allowed him to change behind a curtain, and sold him a bag to carry his discarded clothes.

“Carry purse here...” the man indicated a loop of the robe near Jim’s right hip. “But keep real money inside, where thieves cannot see it.” He tapped his own neck, where a thin chain disappeared beneath his own robe.

“Pickpockets around here?” Jim asked, though he’d already noticed them: teenagers with wildly coloured hair but muted clothing, some working alone, others in groups of three or four. They didn’t seem very successful. Perhaps this tip explained why.

“Too many for guards to catch them all,” the man agreed. “Most of them are starving youngsters, but desperation makes them reckless.” He offered a wry smile. “You look like you have much.”

So it was better, Jim read between the lines, to let them steal a little and get away with it. He had seen that odd kind of charity operating on other poor worlds, but Perchen was, despite its water shortage, a prosperous society. He hadn’t expected to see it here. Still, he thanked the man for his advice and moved on.

He explored the market and chatted with the stall holders. He purchased a few small items: nothing significant or costly, but enough to legitimise his presence and keep them talking. He was examining a set of bowls when a purple-haired kid crept up beside him. Jim pretended he hadn’t noticed her, instead asking the seller about the enamel on the bowl he held. He barely heard the reply. As the girl got close enough to touch he reached toward the purse on his hip. His hand closed over hers and he gripped hard, turning to face her.

She struggled, yelling, “Let me go, mister. I didn’t do anything!”

“Shut up,” Jim hissed, “before the guards hear you!” He moved her between himself and the stall display, shielding her from the view of the nearest guard. Not that he could block all of them, or stop the eyes that had likely already photographed her. The girl couldn’t be more than twelve and she was scared. “Be still!” Jim ordered.

She froze.

Jim let her go and reached into his purse for a couple of coins. “Here. Go.”

She snatched the coins from his hand and fled.

Jim left that stall without buying anything. He continued walking around the market, though, and learned more and more about the town as he talked with stallholders and other shoppers. Everyone he asked was enthusiastic about the desert race. It was evidently a huge event that everyone watched if they could. There was an exhibition at the Guild building detailing the race’s history. That would be Jim’s next stop.

He was feeling hungry, so he stopped at a street food stall on his way out of the market. The food on sale was unidentifiable goop stuffed into flatbread pouches. There were three choices of hot goop: brown, red and green. What was in them, Jim had no idea, but it actually smelled pretty good. There was more grease than he liked, but on Perchen that was what people used instead of water. He paid for one with the red stuff and was about to take a bite when he heard a commotion in one of the alleys leading away from the market: children’s voices shouting. He headed that way.

He found several older kids surrounding the purple-haired girl he encountered earlier. She was yelling, but Jim couldn’t understand the words – a local street pidgin, perhaps. The other kids punched and kicked at her. Jim strode forward.

He grasped the oldest of the bullies by the clothing nearest his neck and pulled him off, roughly. He shoved him away and pushed the next kid back. The others stopped and backed off – only a little, but enough. Jim offered his hand to the purple-haired girl. She wasn’t hurt, but scared and dirty. For a moment she simply stared up at him. He curled his fingers in a ‘come along’ gesture, but said nothing, letting her decide. She raised her hand tentatively, then grasped his.

Jim helped her up and turned to the other kids. “What’s this about?”

They were silent.

With the girl’s hand grasping his and the stuffed bread in his other hand, Jim was pretty much helpless to offer them anything but words. These kids were hungry and thirsty, but they’d been ganging up on a helpless child and he couldn’t let that go.

“What is it you want?” Jim asked them. “Money? Water?” No one answered him, so he turned to purple-hair instead. “Are they your friends?”

She looked at the others and, after a long hesitation, nodded.

“Then why were they hitting you?”

She shook her head. Not telling.

Jim took a guess. “Because you wouldn’t share?”

She nodded again.

Jim let go of her hand so he could open his purse. “It’s not much, but I can give you something,” he offered. “And if you’ll meet me tomorrow and do something for me, I’ll give you all water. How does that sound?”

A boy with green stripes in his hair stepped forward. “Why?”

“Because I don’t like to see good kids stealing.”

“We’re not going to do anything bad.”

“Not bad. And the water is for meeting me. The favour is just a favour. You’ll still get the water if you don’t want to do it.”

The boy looked at purple-hair. “Okay.”

Jim gave each of the kids a coin.

*

They sold water at the Guild building, from locked stores surrounded by guards. Having bought a few trinkets in the market, Jim had a better idea of the value of the local currency. The price of the water made him wince, but he paid for enough to keep his promise to the children before heading into the exhibition. If this was what water cost on the street, the generosity of the palace was truly excessive.

It was blessedly cool in the exhibition hall, where some of the artefacts on display were sensitive to heat. Jim found everything he could want to know about the desert race. The Race was originally founded to encourage and reward innovation. The original participants were inventors and engineers: they were expected to race their own vehicles because that supposedly guaranteed no one would enter a vehicle that couldn’t cut it. Over the two hundred years the race had been held, it had evolved from an inventors’ contest into an endurance challenge. In modern races, while the vehicles were still important, it was more about the people and what they went through to win. That’s what the fans of the race wanted to see and the routes had been getting longer in the past two decades.

Jim’s interest, however, was in the vehicles and here he struck gold. The exhibition included four vehicles that had been winners of past races. Visitors were allowed to examine the exterior, and technical specs were on display. Jim studied all four.

Two of them, he judged, would never run again, but the other two appeared to be functional. None were built for speed. The emphasis was on survival over the long haul. As much space was dedicated to supplies as to engines and systems. Water recycling was a given, as was temperature control. All four vehicles also had air recycling systems similar to those in spacecraft. But the most telling detail was the exterior. All were different, but all were built from tough, heavy materials. There was little paint or decoration and there was extreme wear and tear.

There was one other thing all four vehicles had in common. They were primarily solar-powered – again, on a planet where there was sunlight for thirty four out of thirty six hours each day, that was a given. But not one of them was solely solar-powered. The backup systems varied: batteries, liquid fuel and solid cells, but they all had something. Jim found that curious. On his home planet, everyone had alternate fuel systems, but here you didn’t need them. The one thing Perchen had in abundance was solar energy.

“Not many people study them so carefully.”

Jim was startled to find Ash at his side. Since they’d never actually met, he knew this wasn’t a random meeting. Several possibilities occurred to him.

“I’m interested in engineering,” Jim answered carefully.

“He sent me to find you,” Ash said.

No need to ask who “he” was. Jim already knew that Ash was used to coerce Blair. He had to at least consider that Ash might not have Blair’s best interests at heart. He might even be working against him. Jim’s duty was to Blair. He couldn’t risk trusting this man.

“What does he want?” Jim asked. He moved casually to another part of the exhibition.

Ash followed. “Can you really get us out?”

“I won’t discuss that here,” Jim said sharply. _Or anywhere, with you._ “If you have a message for me, just tell me.”

Ash looked surprised. “You don’t trust me. You think I might be...what? His jailer?”

“Are you?” Jim bent to look more closely at a vid of a race beginning. 

“No! But if you think that you’re not gonna take my word for it.”

_You’ve got that right._ “What’s your message?” Jim asked again.

“There’s a show tonight. If you’re careful you’ll be able to meet. Inner courtyard.”

“When?”

“Whenever he can get away. You’ll have to watch for a chance. I’ll try to help.”

Jim nodded. “Understood.”

Ash shook his head. “You don’t understand any of this. If you did, you’d know I can’t betray him.” Ash walked away.

Jim wanted to go after him, but there were others in the hall and he couldn’t risk drawing attention. He spent some time looking over the rest of the exhibition and then headed back into the streets. Those vehicles had given him the beginnings of a plan.

*

It was called a sand crawler and the name was fairly accurate. It looked like a giant insect: overlapping segments in a dome-like shape. The treads were hidden beneath the shell. There were no windows: navigation was all done by computer. Sand crawlers were mining vehicles, designed to transport ore across the desert and they usually travelled unmanned. But, the vendor assured Jim, they could support a small crew. Some valuable ores might be targeted by desert pirates, so a cargo considered especially valuable might require guards.

“Isn’t that risky work?” Jim asked.

“Security always is,” the vendor agreed.

“I meant crewing one of these across the desert.” Jim patted the nearest crawler. “Can it carry a full load, a crew _and_ enough supplies for the people?”

“Well, for that you’ve got to plot a route of several short hops instead of going direct. A good navigator can do it for you. Avoid the storm, too.”

“But they can do longer journeys?”

“Absolutely, without the crew. What are you looking to haul?”

“Merchandise. I saw a lot in the market here that will bring a good price on my homeworld. I don’t need a crew, but I’m used to travelling with my goods.”

“Alone? Don’t do it!” the vendor warned vehemently. “Look, I could sell you a crawler fully kitted out for that journey, but I’d be killing you. You’ve got to have a navigator aboard and no one’s going to hire for a long haul in this season.”

Jim frowned. “Then what do you suggest?”

The vendor led him to a medium-sized sand crawler and pulled open the cargo door. “This baby will get your goods there no matter how bad the weather. Just don’t expect to travel with it. I can sell it to you with the nav pre-programmed for the space port.  _You_ take the shuttle and you’ll be there two days before your goods.”

“A pre-programmed route will be fine, but what happens if the route hits that storm?”

“Depends on the cargo. The crawler can get through the storm, but it’ll get tossed about some. If your cargo is fragile, I’ll program it to stop and dig in. Journey takes longer, but your goods stay in one piece.

“Sounds good,” Jim agreed, studying the interior of the crawler. It didn’t look like a luxury ride. “How quickly can you deliver?”

“Where do you need it?”

“I have a lot in the sand-harbour warehouse,” Jim lied. He would need to rent or borrow a lot, but that shouldn’t be too great a challenge.

“First thing tomorrow. An extra day if you want it pre-programmed.”

“Two days will be fine. Program the shortest route to the spaceport, but give me that short-hop route and equipment to support three passengers just in case I can find a crew willing to sign on.”

“You won’t,” the vendor muttered.

“Probably not, but I’m going to try.”

After a few more minutes negotiation, Jim transferred the price of a new sand crawler into the vendor’s account. The price was stiff because he’d demanded supplies for three, which meant he had to pay for water. Jim was fairly sure he’d been charged the tourist price, too, but that was only to be expected. He could pass the cost on to his client.

Now he had just two more tasks to accomplish.

 


	4. The Storm (1)

_There’s a show tonight_ , Ash had told him. That word must have a different meaning on Perchen from every other planet, because what Jim encountered that evening was much bigger than anything he would have described as a “show”. It was a full-scale carnival that took up the whole second circle of the palace. In the open areas, brightly coloured ribbons were strung between the pillars and acrobats swung and leapt from one to the next. Clowns on tall stilts walked through the gathering and distributed sweet treats. On raised platforms, fire dancers performed with blazing hoops and staves. Jim moved through the show as naturally as he could. He let his eyes drift over the performers, but he was looking for Blair.

He climbed to the upper floor, where the outward-facing balcony overlooked all of the entertainment below. He glanced down and suddenly his head whirled. A rainbow spun and roiled below as acrobats tumbled through the ribbons. The smells of smoke and sweaty bodies rose thickly around him. Jim grabbed the rail to steady himself and raised his free hand to rub his temples. He closed his eyes, wondering what was wrong with him.

That was when he heard Blair’s voice.

“Beautiful? No, it scares me.”

Jim pulled himself together and moved toward the familiar voice. These rooms held more focussed entertainments, each room devoted to a different theme. There were singers and musicians, storytellers and comedians. But the closest room was an art gallery, and it was there he found Blair.

He stood before the largest of the paintings, a woman beside him. She was way overdressed for this kind of party: a figure-hugging gown of silver and gold with diamonds sparkling at her fingers, wrists, neck, ears and even in her hair.

“It’s a kind of dream,” the woman said. She gestured toward the painting and her diamonds glittered in the light. Her accent identified her as an off-worlder, as did Jim’s glimpse of her hand: her skin was soft and moist – the skin of someone who had never been short of water. “Don’t you want to see rain here?” she asked.

“No!” Blair sounded genuinely shocked. He moved slightly away from her and Jim got his first good look at the painting. It was rather lovely. A desert landscape showing a rocky outcrop in the foreground, the empty dunes stretching out beyond and three suns in the sky; the colours were deep and rich: yellows, oranges, browns and purple, pink and white in the sky. The sky colours seemed odd until Jim realised it was a distant storm: a rainstorm instead of Perchen’s endless sandstorm. Beneath the outcrop, there were small, green plants. Jim found himself agreeing with the woman: this was a hopeful image, showing Perchen as it might have been instead of as the desert wasteland it was. 

“You don’t understand this planet,” Blair objected. “The ecology here is balanced on a knife-edge. There was never supposed to be any life here. Perchen is too close to the suns and our orbit is erratic. Every fifty years or so the planet passes even closer to the sun than usual. It gets _really_ hot. If there’s too much moisture in the atmosphere when that happens, the terraforming will destabilise and we all die.” Blair gestured toward the painting dismissively. “Enough water for that to happen...it would destroy Perchen.”

“That can’t be true,” the woman protested. “Terraforming doesn’t destabilise – ”

“Terraforming makes a planet’s surface suitable for human life. It can’t change the gravity to make it easier for the planet to hold onto an atmosphere or re-engineer a star system to place the planet in the goldilocks zone. Nothing can.” Blair turned to move on to the next painting and caught sight of Jim. He signalled with his eyes toward a door.

Jim obediently headed that way. As he passed the painting they had been arguing about, Jim glanced at the title card beside the painting. It read,  _Ragnarok_. 

Through the door Blair indicated was a bar. There most of the people in this room had drinks in their hands and were talking quietly in small groups. Jim bought a cup of the local moonshine and waited at the bar. After a few moments, Blair came in. He was alone, but he didn’t even look Jim’s way. He just crossed the room to the balcony.

Jim followed him.

Blair led him along the balcony to a narrow staircase. They climbed, spiralling upward until they emerged onto another, much higher balcony. The noise and bustle of the show beneath them was much less intrusive here, and Jim was grateful.

A flash of light caught Jim’s eye. He looked up, sharply, trying to locate it. After a moment, there was a second flash from the sky. A meteor? Surely not.

“Harbingers of the storm,” Blair said quietly.

“Harbingers?”

“There are two things that protect the oasis from that storm,” Blair explained. His voice had taken on a lecturing tone, as if he were a tour guide. “The weather control system is one, but it’s not very effective against the big storm.”

There was another flash. This time Jim was watching for it and he saw it clearly. “Something’s hitting the shield.”

“The shield is the second thing. When the storm gets close, the electrical interference does that to the shield. It’s going to be a big one. I think it’ll hit us in a couple of days.”

Jim frowned. “I thought the direction of the storm couldn’t be predicted that far ahead.”

Blair grinned. “A navigator told you that, right?”

Jim agreed that was true.

“They like to keep their secrets. The route of the storm is predictable, but it’s hard. What they can’t predict is its shape, where the edges will reach, which is the navigators’ real skill. There are signs, if you know how to read them.” Blair turned away from the view. “I can’t be away very long. What’s your plan to get us out of here?”

Jim hesitated. “The less you know, the safer it will be for all of us. How closely are you watched?”

“Inside the palace, I’m not.” Blair hugged himself. “If I want to leave the second circle, I have two guards.”

He was holding something back. “That doesn’t sound like much,” Jim commented.

“They don’t need to watch me. They have Ash. And I have a passive implant they can use to track me.”

Jim could deal with an implant, but Blair should have mentioned that first. “I agreed to take Ash, too, but this is only going to work if you tell me  _everything_ . Are you ever allowed to leave the palace together?”

Blair shook his head. “We can go together as far as the fountain courtyard. Ash is free to leave as long as I stay behind. I can only leave with guards and Ash has to stay behind.”

That was better than Jim expected. “The fountain is good. If you go there, you’d have two guards?”

Blair nodded.

“ _Only_ two?”

“Well, as far as I know. It’s possible they have other spies, but I’ve never seen them.”

“Okay. That’s good news.” Jim slipped a small card into Blair’s hand. “Keep this with you, even when you sleep. It will peel and stick to your skin so wear it someplace nobody sees. When it alerts you, come to the fountain with Ash, as quickly as you can. Don’t tell him or anyone else until you get my call.”

“If I tell Ash, he can help,” Blair protested.

“He could also be forced to betray you. Don’t tell _anyone_ anything they don’t need to know. And, Blair?”

“Yes?”

“When it’s time, you can’t take anything with you except what you’re wearing. Is there anything you can’t live without?”

Blair looked distressed suddenly. “My books,” he whispered.

Shit. “On chips, or real?”

“Real! I have chips, too, but – ”

“It can’t happen, professor. Chips, maybe, if you can carry them on you. But real books you have to leave behind.”

Blair glanced toward the stairway. “I’ve got to get back. When do we leave?”

“It depends on that storm,” Jim hedged. He wasn’t going to tell Blair when it was obvious he would tell Ash. “A day or two, I hope. Just be ready for the signal.”

“I will. Thank you.” Blair left at a near-run.

Jim finished his drink. The kid was scared, which Jim understood. But he was also stupid. This was going to end badly.

*

There was a real bite to the wind, a welcome relief from the oppressive heat, but a warning of danger, too. The shield that protected the oasis from attack, by man and nature alike, flashed constantly as it attempted to repel the storm. When Jim passed a window that gave him a view of the desert beyond the oasis all he could see was roiling clouds of dust. In the city surrounding the palace doors were barred, windows were shuttered and vehicles were locked up undercover.

From casual conversations while making the necessary arrangements to get Blair and Ash off Perchen, Jim knew that the storm came close to the oasis two or three times a year. Usually, the weather control net deflected it from the oasis itself. When that failed, the storm could be extremely unpredictable. There was a dome-shaped shield protecting the oasis, but it was designed as a weapons shield, not for weather control. The shield kept out the worst of the storm – the flesh-stripping blasts of sand-filled wind – but couldn’t keep out the wind itself. The city was in for a bad few days even if the shield held.

The shield would hold, people assured Jim when he commented on it, but it sounded like a wish, not a certainty. To Jim’s knowledge, the shield had failed only once in living memory, and that was due to sabotage. That it _might_ happen, however unlikely, was enough: people were afraid.

There would never be a better time to escape.

Jim would take only what he could carry on his person; he couldn’t even risk a bag. He dressed in the local fashion, arranging the drapes and loops of the robe to allow him to carry some supplies with him. He concealed a bottle of water beneath one fold of cloth, the tools he needed to get them out of the palace within a loop and the access key for the desert harbour. He had one final item in his trunk that he couldn’t manage without: the antidote to the drug he was going to use in their escape. The antidode was a simple patch which he stuck to the skin inside his elbow. It was enough for only two hours – any more would be toxic – but two hours should be more than enough.

In the fountain courtyard, there were fewer people than usual. There was a line of people queueing for water from the fountain, but the mood was sombre, conversation muted. The storm was very close now and the shield flickered constantly. Every few moments, someone would look up nervously at a particularly bright flash.

The flickering shield was giving Jim a headache. He raised a loop of his robe over his head like a hood, using it to block out some of the light. Then he looked for a place where he could stand and watch the area without drawing too much attention. Only when he stood in his vantage point did Jim send the signal to Blair.

Game on.

By the time Blair and Ash appeared in the courtyard, Jim’s head was throbbing. He would have given a lot to lie down for a while in the dark, but that simply wasn’t an option. He was relieved to see that Blair had followed his instructions. Both men were dressed in the same kind of clothing as Jim himself: simple, local garb that would allow them to pass unnoticed in the streets. Blair was carrying a reader, but it was small and unobtrusive. Ash carried nothing.

Ash saw Jim first. He had nudged Blair and nodded in his direction before Jim could stop him. Jim made what he hoped was a subtle gesture, telling them to move on. Blair, at least, seemed to understand. He said something to Ash and they both turned away. Jim walked slowly to the next pillar. He was not watching Blair or Ash. He was looking for whoever was watching  _them._

There were four. Two of them wore palace uniforms and followed Blair quite openly: those were the guards Blair knew about. Jim knew there would be others; the only question was whether they were human or electronic...or both. He found two other human watchers: a man and a woman. They were  _already in the courtyard_ when Blair and Ash entered, but subtly separated themselves from the crowd to move toward Blair. They had known Blair was coming this way. Most likely it had simply been obvious from Blair’s movement through the palace, but it was also possible they knew more. Either way, it was the two spies that Jim had to take care of first, and he had to do it while they were still together.

Jim had no time to be stealthy. He slipped the first two stun patches into his palms as he walked toward them from behind. He caught up with them, angled his body so he could push between them and the instant he was close enough slipped both of his hands into theirs, palm to palm. It was the first time he was grateful for Perchen’s climate: no one here ever wore gloves or covered their palms. He knew he would be touching bare skin, and that was all he needed for the drug to work. He kept up his momentum, pulling the two spies toward a nearby bench. Delonal worked fast. Jim managed to get the woman seated easily enough, but the man fell awkwardly, his knees buckling. Jim leapt to catch him, turned him around and sat him on the bench. He looked around anxiously. A couple of people had seen what happened, but their eyes were too curious, the scrutiny too open for them to be more spies. The uniformed guards were watching Blair. There were electronic eyes, of course, and Jim could do nothing about those except hope whoever was monitoring in that moment found other screens more interesting.

Jim sat on the bench between the two spies. He carefully stripped the stun patches from his hands. “This is delonal,” he told them. “Now, listen up. The dose isn’t enough to be fatal. The paralysis will last for about an hour, then gradually wear off. Delonal is an interesting drug. If you try to fight it, your body responds by metabolising more of it – that means the paralysis deepens. In case it’s not clear, that means that if you fight the dose I’ve given you, it will deepen enough to paralyse your lungs. You will die.” He patted each of them on their knees. “So just relax and don’t try to move.” He took the communicators from them both and left them there. No one appeared to be paying any special attention to him.

Blair and Ash were near the fountain. Jim joined the line of people waiting for water. He wished that damned flickering would stop. At least he didn’t have to queue for long.

As he reached the fountain and paid for a cup of water, Blair moved up to his side. Jim raised the cup to his mouth to conceal his lips from anyone watching.

“Go toward the gate but don’t go through it until I do. Once we’re through, we move fast but don’t run. All you have to do is stay with me. Got it?”

“Yes. Are you – ” 

“No questions. Go!” Jim drank the whole cup. It might be the last water he would get for a while.

Jim returned the cup to the water seller and moved away from the fountain, casually, keeping the two uniformed guards in view. It was difficult not to watch Blair and Ash. The biggest danger with ops like this was always the target screwing it up. It was actually easier to take them by force. In this case, though, the location made that impossible. Access to the oasis was so tightly controlled Jim had no way to penetrate with his team. He needed Blair’s co-operation to get them all out.

_Calm down_ , Jim told himself.  _Everything is on track._

Uniformed guards work differently from undercovers. The two Jim had left drugged on the bench would have worked independently if he’d taken out only one of them. Uniforms were conditioned to be each other’s backup. If Jim took one of them down, the other would be distracted – at least for long enough to let Jim, Blair and Ash get outside the palace.

Jim slid a third stun patch onto the back of his left hand. He walked away from the fountain, angling toward the guards following Blair. Most people gave them a wide berth: their uniforms marked them as people to avoid jostling. So Jim swerved to avoid them, making the change of direction seem natural. But he got just a little too close and brushed one guard’s hand with the back of his. Jim kept moving, heading into the darkness beneath the balcony. Only when he reached that shadowed place did he look back. He saw the drugged guard going down and – yes! - her partner’s attention was all on her. The other guard shouted for help, trying to help her to stand. The shout attracted everyone’s attention.

Jim walked quickly to the exit.

No one could get inside the palace without passing through security scans and providing identification. But from the fountain courtyard it was easy to walk through the outer gate – no one was ever challenged on exit. Jim glanced back to make sure Blair and Ash were following him and kept moving, but once through the gate he slowed his pace to let them catch up.

“Are you both okay?” he asked urgently.

“Yes,” Blair answered breathlessly.

“We’ve got five minutes at most before they realise you’re outside. Let’s go.”

Jim headed toward the market, moving quickly but not running. If he were alone, he would have run, but he had to make sure Blair and Ash could keep up. Perchen’s climate didn’t exactly encourage a fitness regime.

Two blocks from the market, Jim saw what he’d been looking for: a flash of purple hair. He stopped moving, gesturing to Blair and Ash. “Skalla,” he called.

The girl appeared in front of him with a grin. “Today?” she asked.

Jim drew back the fold of his clothing to show her the bottle of water he carried. “Enough?” he asked.

Her grin answered him.

Jim offered her the bottle. “Today. As soon as you can. But remember – ”

“Don’t do anything that will get us into real trouble,” she chanted, having heard his admonishment before. She stashed the bottle under her raggy robe. “Thanks for the water. We’ll give ’em a show!” She sped off.

“Was that full of water?” Ash asked. He sounded like he didn’t believe it.

“Skalla and her friends are going to create a distraction that will help us,” Jim explained.

“You’ll get them killed!” Ash objected.

“Not if they do as I’ve told them,” Jim insisted. “Do you want to get off this planet or not? We need to move, kid.” Now he’d put the children into play, Jim headed off in a different direction: toward the warehouse and sand-harbour. 

His was far from a perfect plan, but Jim thought they had a good chance. It was Ash’s presence at the Guild building that gave him the idea. Jim knew Blair sent Ash to him because Ash could leave the palace alone, but he thought it almost certain that Ash was watched. Perhaps he wasn’t watched all that closely, but at minimum they would know where he had been. Jim assumed he was under surveillance himself. That meant that the Archon’s security force knew that both he and Ash had been looking at the desert race winners.

Jim knew that his purchase of a sand crawler would be easy to track. He was counting on speed, and the storm to cover their escape. But the vehicles in the museum gave him another idea. He had been wondering about the possibility of stealing one when Ash showed up. Of course, that was just an idle thought and wouldn’t have worked but it created an opportunity for misdirection. That was where the marketplace kids came in. For a payment of water, they would create as much confusion as they could around the Guild building. They weren’t supposed to do anything worse than noise and practical jokes, dancing in the street – anything that would draw attention. Jim hoped that would draw security to the building. When someone realised Blair and Ash were missing, if they understood he was fleeing the oasis, maybe they would concentrate their search in the wrong place.

If Jim had to reach the spaceport with his fugitives, this would be a suicidal plan. But all they needed to do was get far enough into the open desert for the  _Panther_ to extract them. This, they could do, as long as they could evade pursuit. The storm, Jim hoped, would do that for them.

*

“Are you crazy?” Blair demanded, when he saw the sand crawler.

“It’s the only way to get outside the shield,” Jim explained. 

“ _Outside_ the shield? In this storm?” 

To himself, Jim could admit it did sound insane. But they had only this one chance and he had taken account of all the variables he could. He kept his voice even. “Blair, this crawler can stand the storm for the short time we’ll be out there. My team can’t extract us until we’re outside the shield.”

“Fine, we can take a crawler out there. But not in this storm!” Blair’s voice rose in panic.

Jim took a breath to argue but Ash spoke first. He laid a hand on Blair’s arm. “Babe, we agreed to trust him.”

“I know, but – ” 

“He is right. A good sand crawler will keep going right through the storm.” Ash turned to Jim. “But,” he added, “they aren’t designed to carry people.”

The more time they spent debating this, the more danger they were all in. It was too late to turn back and try another day. If they were caught now, they would be kicked out into the storm – without the crawler. Jim’s headache was fading now they were out of that damned flickering. He was ready to go. He was impatient to be away from this place of burning air and scorched earth. But Ash was being reasonable, and Jim tried to swallow his impatience.

“This one is adapted for a crew. It won’t be comfortable, but it will be safe. You both have to trust me.” He gestured to the door. “Or you can go back.”

The two men looked at each other. Finally, Blair nodded.

“Blair, get inside the crawler,” Jim ordered. He crossed to the crates and opened the one that contained the weapons. He selected a burst rifle: a bulky but lightweight weapon with a built-in shield. “Ash, I have to go to the office and get the tunnel opened for us. Do you know how to use this?”

Ash shook his head. “No.” He backed off a little.

_Shit_ . Jim showed him the grip. “Hold it here, like this. Point. Squeeze here to fire. The shield activates automatically when you start to squeeze.” He patted Ash’s shoulder. “Keep him safe until I get back.”

It did what Jim hoped. Ash took the burst rifle from him and straightened his spine. “Always.”

Jim gave him a reassuring nod and left quickly.

From the sand-harbour there was a tunnel designed for the unmanned sand crawlers. That tunnel was one of only three ways to leave the oasis, and the only way to do so when the shield was active because the tunnel was constructed underneath the emitters. Jim had already arranged for his crawler to be given clearance and paid the necessary bribes to ensure his “cargo” would not be inspected. He just had to confirm that his crawler was loaded and arrange for the tunnel to be opened. Or so he thought.

But sending his supposedly unmanned crawler out in this storm raised more issues with the harbourmaster and he was asked to sign several waivers and disclaimers to ensure the company would not be responsible if his crawler failed to survive the storm.

In the end, Jim doubled his already-substantial bribe in order to cut through the red tape. The price hurt. He could reclaim it from his client, but only after he delivered Blair to Avaline. In the meantime, that was money he couldn’t afford to spend. But he had no choice.

“Turn your nav over to us,” the harbourmaster instructed. “We will take your crawler to the tunnel and release it to your autoroute as it passes out of our jurisdiction.”

“I’ve already pre-programmed the whole thing,” Jim objected.

“Not here. The system won’t open the tunnel unless it’s in control. It’s a necessary failsafe.”

Jim knew when he was beaten. “Alright. I’ll have to go back to unlock the nav. Take it on my signal. I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Jim hurried back to the sand crawler, retrieved a second burst rifle, and climbed aboard, letting Ash go first. He stowed both rifles then told Blair and Ash to strap in while he checked the cargo door was fully sealed. The “passenger” area was a roughly circular area of floor, padded with blankets and encircled by rings and loops designed for securing cargo. There was a sliding door between there and the cabin. Jim slid into the override position, checked the pre-programmed route and linked the nav to the sand-harbour system. He sent the signal that the crawler was ready to go. After a brief wait that seemed like forever, the crawler’s engine fired up and it began to move.

The crawler was an entirely closed environment. It had to be, to survive the Perchen desert. There was no way to see outside: no viewscreen, no windows, nothing to go on except the navigational display. The interior of the crawler would have been entirely dark without the taclights Jim had added. When Jim glanced back to check on them, Blair was sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed. Ash was strapped in safely.

Jim turned back to the nav display as it charted their slow progress through the warehouse. He felt the change of attitude as the crawler crawled onto the ramp. He watched the yellow dot slide slowly across the display screen. They were almost at the tunnel. Then they were entering the tunnel.

The crawler’s movement stopped. The engine still purred and rattled, but they were not moving.

Jim rose from his seat. “Stay down, both of you. We might have trouble.” He retrieved a rifle and headed to the cargo door, but waited there, listening.

He waited. He listened. He heard voices outside. Then the clank of someone trying to open the crawler. Jim primed the rifle and its shield activated, a slight distortion in the air in front of his face. He saw the uniform before the cargo door fully opened so he fired his first burst before they could see him. Behind him, Blair yelled something Jim couldn’t hear. The next moment Ash was at his side, holding the other rifle.

Jim flattened himself against the side for cover. He fired another burst. He shouted to Ash. “Cover me! I’ve got to get us moving again!”

Ash obeyed and Jim dived for the cabin. Pain tore through him but he ignored it until he reached the cabin. Jim pulled the cloth away from his arm to look at the wound. A graze, bleeding copiously but not dangerous. He ripped the bottom half of his sleeve away to bind it, wiped the blood off his fingers and sat down at the nav console.

Technically, he shouldn’t be able to wrest control of the nav away from the port system, but the sand harbour’s system was outdated and Jim knew a few tricks. He rebooted the nav and assessed their position. The crawler was in the tunnel mouth. So it was open and couldn’t close until the crawler moved forward or back. He fired the engine and the crawler inched forward. The gunfire outside increased. The harbourmaster had said the tunnel wouldn’t open unless the system was in control of the crawler. He hadn’t said what would happen if it lost control.

They were moving too slowly. Ash was still firing and calling for help, but Jim couldn’t help him. He couldn’t leave the nav.

Then Blair screamed.

Ash stopped shooting. Jim had no choice. He left the cabin, knowing he might lose control of the nav any moment. Ash hung half out of the sand crawler. Blair was trying to pull him inside, screaming denials. Jim shoved Blair out of the way. He fired a few bursts of cover fire then reached for Ash. A glance was enough. Ash was dead, half of his face missing. Uniformed guards were spilling through the tunnel door as it closed. Jim had only one option to save Blair and himself. He lifted Ash’s body, pushing him out of the crawler so the cargo door could close. Blair was still screaming. The cargo door slammed shut. Jim returned to the cabin with his rifle. Bullets hit the crawler, but it was well armoured and sealed: they couldn’t penetrate. Jim and Blair were safe.

The crawler crawled onward, slowly, down the tunnel. Then out of the tunnel. Into the storm.


	5. The Storm (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intentionally selected "choose not to warn" for this story; however, I can't post this chapter without a clearer warning. If you are triggered by descriptions of rape, please stop reading now.

 

He knew the storm would be bad. The sand crawler was buffeted from every side as it made its slow progress across the desert. It was like being on the high seas, tossed from wave to wave. Yet somehow, the crawler kept moving forward. Every few seconds something hit the outer hull, clanging on the metal. Mostly, they were small impacts, but some shook the crawler hard, ringing through the hull and causing the nav system to slow or even stop while it ran diagnostics and reset its gyros.

Jim was impressed by the sturdy craft. He wiped the pre-programmed route from the nav and set a new course. The original route was on file with the sand harbour. It was unlikely anyone from the oasis would be crazy enough to follow them into the storm, but just in case, Jim made sure they wouldn’t be found on that route. Once they were on the new heading, he left the nav to do its work and returned to the hold to check on Blair.

When he saw his passenger, Jim wished he’d come back sooner. The young man was a mess. Blair was curled up in a corner, hugging himself tightly. He raised his head as Jim entered the hold, looking up at him with eyes red and swollen from crying. His hair was tangled, his clothing was torn and Jim could see the marks where he had scratched his own skin. Jim expected him to grieve for his lover, but this seemed...excessive.

He crouched beside the young man. “Blair?” Jim spoke gently, but quickly realised that was useless. Blair would never hear him over the noise of the storm. Instead, he reached out to touch him, intending to comfort.

Blair shoved Jim away. He tried to move backward but had nowhere to go. He said something Jim couldn’t hear. He got the message, anyway. Blair didn’t want his comfort.

Jim rose and returned to the cabin.

It was nearly an hour before the storm finally died down, or the sand crawler moved out of its path. Jim spent that time in the cabin. He cleaned and stowed his rifle. He took the last delonal patches out of his robe and placed them very carefully at the back of the nav console where he wouldn’t touch them by accident. The antidote had long since worn off, but only one side of the patch was treated so they were safe to handle as long as he was careful.

Jim took out his communicator. The storm was moving away but it was probably still too close for him to reach the _Panther_. He tried anyway, boosting the trans through the crawler’s system.

“Ellison to _Panther._ Come in. Ellison to _Panther_.”

The comm crackled with static.

“Ellison to _Panther_. Come in.”

More static. Jim tried a different frequency. “Ellison to _Panther_. Come in.”

Only static.

Patiently, Jim moved to the next frequency, and when that produced static, too, moved on to the next.

“Who is Panther?” Blair’s voice startled him. The words were hoarse and weak, but clear.

Jim turned the communicator off. “It’s not a who. The _Panther_ is my ship.”

“Why aren’t they answering?”

“I don’t think they can hear me yet. The storm is still too close.”

“If you can’t get through...”

“I will. When the storm is a bit further away.” Jim studied Blair. He looked ill. It wasn’t just the crying. Blair’s skin looked grey, and he was clinging to the cabin door as if he wasn’t strong enough to stand.

Jim stood and offered the cabin’s only seat to Blair. “We might be here for a while. You should rest.” He glanced at the delonal patches, wondering if Blair might need a sedative. But delonal wasn’t the best choice and it was all Jim had until they boarded the _Panther_. “Water?” he offered instead.

Blair didn’t move. Jim wasn’t sure he’d even heard him. He crossed the cabin and guided Blair to the seat. The kid moved passively, allowing Jim to sit him down.

“Water?” Jim offered again.

Blair looked up, his eyes confused. “Yes. Thanks.” He reached out toward the console and idly ran his fingers across the display.

“I’ll get it.” Jim left Blair in the cabin and went to the hold where the supplies were stashed. No medical supplies, damn it. Jim rubbed at his injured arm. There were food rations in packets, bags of the little hard biscuits which were the basic diet for the average people on Perchen and a few small bottles of water. It wasn’t much, but it would be plenty for the short time they would be here. Jim extracted one bottle, broke the seal and sniffed it. Water, poor quality with a slight hint of chlorine. He’d paid for better than this, but it would do.

When Jim turned around, Blair stood there behind him. Jim was a little startled, but he held out the bottle. “Here.”

Blair stretched out his hand toward the bottle. But instead of taking it, he touched Jim’s bare forearm. Jim looked down to see one of the delonal patches on his skin.

“What – ” he began, but he got no further. Delonal took effect swiftly. He couldn’t feel the patch on his skin. His knees buckled. He tried to grab onto the supply box but his muscles wouldn’t obey him. The water bottle fell from his hand and its contents spilled across the deck.

“Delonal, right?” Blair said. “I thought it was.” He caught Jim as he fell. “I don’t want to do this,” he muttered. “I don’t have a choice.”

Jim wanted to ask what he was babbling about. He wanted to rip the patch off his skin. But he could do nothing. Fighting the effects of delonal paralysis could be fatal. Jim concentrated on breathing, steady, slow. What was Blair doing? Why? Had this whole thing been some kind of setup? If so, why hadn’t Jim seen it?

Blair dropped him on the padded section of the deck, but awkwardly, so pain shot through his injured arm. Jim yelled with pain, but no sound came out except a harsh whistle of breath. Even that was too much, and he struggled to refill his lungs. He was lying on the torn muscle and it hurt like hell. He wanted to shift his weight to make it bearable, but with the delonal in his system that much effort would be dangerous. He could do it, maybe, but it would take everything he had.

_Breathe, Jim. Just breathe._

He couldn’t think through the pain. Blair was speaking, but Jim could neither understand nor focus on the words enough to try. He _had_ to move. _Okay, breathe. Then concentrate hard on moving. Just a small shift._ Jim focussed on what he needed to do to roll over. From the position he was in, it would be easier to lie on his front, so he had to push with his knee to move his weight. Just a little. _Breathe._ He fought to tense his thigh muscle and move his leg. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t move at all.

Blair was tugging at Jim’s clothing. Jim couldn’t see what he was doing, but he could feel it. What was happening?

Blair pulled hard on the cloth and Jim felt his body shift. The relief was amazing, but it didn’t last.

“I have to do this,” Blair whispered. “I’ll die if...”

 _If what?_ Jim screamed silently. He felt Blair’s hands on his bare flesh. His hands were dry, the skin of his palms rough, but his touch was gentle. Weirdly so. Jim’s arm throbbed. _Breathe._

Then Blair’s weight was above him. Fingers parted his buttocks, then pushed inside him.

_No! No! Don’t!_

Jim couldn’t move. Panic sped his heart and his breath. Something squeezed his lungs and heart. Fingers pushed deeper and withdrew. Weight on him shifted.

_No! No!_

Jim would have fought if he could. He would have screamed. He couldn’t move a single muscle. He couldn’t even whisper.

_Breathe._

“Oh, man,” Blair said, and his voice sounded strange. It was as if something drove him. As if someone had a gun to his head. But they were alone, and Blair was doing this of his own will. No one else could possibly know or control what was happening.

The pain of penetration drove all thought from Jim’s mind. He tried to concentrate on breathing but it was getting harder. The air was so hot, it was like breathing hot treacle. Why was this happening?

“Ssh. It’s okay.” Blair’s hand stroked Jim’s shoulder, incongruously gentle even as he violated Jim’s body.

To his horror, Jim found his sex reacting. With each thrust inside him he felt a spike of pleasure. His cock swelled. Instinctively he fought that, felt that iron fist around his heart again and, despairing, did his best to relax. Let his body do what it would. Let what was happening to his body happen.

_Just breathe._

It was impossible. How long had it been since Blair drugged him? Jim’s sense of time, usually so accurate, crumbled under the struggle to keep his heart beating. He was going to die here.

“ _I won’t let you die.”_ The voice was inside him, soft and loving. It was nothing Jim recognised. Not even a voice, not really. Closer to an impulse, a thought, but not his own. It distracted him from what was happening to his body and he desperately clung to that distraction. He forgot the need to keep himself breathing. He forgot the anger, the panic and the pain.

He was floating in a dark place. He was comfortable and warm. He was drifting. There was light, but it was distant. It was beautiful. He reached toward the light.

“ _I have you safe. Come to me.”_ There was so much emotion in that not-voice. A need that clawed at him urgently. The soft, glowing light came closer and he saw it was human. A golden hand, outstretched, the fingers slightly curled. _“Come to me.”_

Jim stretched out, his own flesh dark beside that golden glow. He felt reluctant to touch the other, as if it would be a desecration of that beauty. But another part of him knew he would never be alive, never be whole again if he didn’t finish this. Whatever this was. He opened his outstretched hand. His fingertips touched the golden glow.

Orgasm burst over him, a pleasure so intense it tore a cry from his frozen throat. The golden fingers reached for him, but they began to drift apart.

In an instant of clarity Jim found himself back in the sand crawler, sprawled underneath Blair. He felt the hard thrust within him. Blair cried out.

And the glowing fingers grasped Jim’s hand, forcing him to feel the pleasure as well as the pain. Then there was no pain. Only an overwhelming relief that somehow, Jim knew, was not his own.

*

It was a long time before the delonal wore off enough for Jim to move.

While he was waiting, paralysed, Jim had plenty of time to think through what he was going to do. That time probably saved Blair’s life. Jim wanted to kill him. If he’d been able to at first, he would have. But he was being paid a lot to deliver Blair and his crew was depending on him. They couldn’t afford to screw up this job.

Killing Blair wouldn’t undo what happened. Jim would fulfil his contract.

When he was able to move again, Jim got up and headed into the cabin. He said nothing to Blair. He didn’t even look at him.

The trans connected to the _Panther_ on his first try.

“Damn, Ellison, where have you been?” Megan sounded genuinely worried.

“Busy,” Jim said shortly. “Can you get a fix on this trans? I need a fast pickup.”

Megan’s voice became business-like. “Shuttle is ready to launch and I have a fix on you now. Are you taking fire?”

“Negative, they haven’t found us yet. We had a firefight getting out...” Jim trailed off, suddenly aware that his arm no longer hurt. He pulled the makeshift bandage away from the wound. The wound was gone, only a slight pinkish line of skin to show it had ever been there.

“Jim?”

“Yeah. Sorry. We’re okay for now but they’ll be searching for us. You need to get here first.”

“Roger that.” There was a crackle on the line and Megan’s voice became muffled. “Joel, launch now. I’ll send you the coordinates.” Jim heard Joel acknowledge the order and Megan’s voice came through clear again. “Joel’s on his way.”

“Thanks, Megan.”

“I’ll keep a light on for you. _Panther_ out.”

A sound behind him made Jim whirl around, adrenaline spiking. Blair stood in the hatchway.

“I think we should talk,” Blair said nervously.

Jim didn’t think that conversation was likely to go well, but he made a beckoning gesture. Blair stepped through the hatch. He looked around as if searching for a chair, then settled for leaning against a corner of the console.

“Look, I know – ”

“Shut up,” Jim snapped.

Blair obeyed.

“I don’t want to hear anything except the answers to my questions. If you piss me off any more than you already have, I will tie you up and gag you. And if that doesn’t work I’ll kick you off this thing and let you try to walk home. Understand me?”

Blair opened his mouth, drawing breath to speak.

“Ah!” Jim warned, raising a hand.

Blair closed his mouth and nodded.

“Good. Why did you rape me?”

Blair swallowed. “I...I was dying. I had no choice.”

“There are always choices and that doesn’t even make sense. What, do you die if you don’t fuck someone every hour or something?”

“I was bonded to Ash. Without him...without a bond, I was going to die.”

Jim felt the first stirrings of suspicion. “Bond?” he repeated.

“It’s...hard to explain.”

But Jim was way ahead of him now. The word bond had clicked things into place. “Allow me, then,” he said. “Back at the Palace, you did something wrong but Ash was punished for it. I assumed he was just a whipping boy, but I was wrong, wasn’t I? You literally felt what he did.”

Blair looked unhappy. “Yes.”

“Because you were bonded?”

“Yes.”

“Does it work both ways?”

Blair frowned. “Sort of. What Ash got from me was more emotional than physical.” He looked down at the ground and ran a hand through his tangled hair. “According to my studies every pairing works differently.”

“And you think you’ll die if you’re not bonded to someone?”

“I don’t think it. It’s true, man. Someone like me, after the first bonding, it’s necessary.”

Jim nodded. It didn’t justify what Blair did, but it seemed to explain it, at least. “How long?” he asked.

“How long what?”

“How long does it last?”

Blair’s insides clenched in fear. Somehow, Jim felt it, the terror turning him cold, almost, but not quite, like his own emotion.

“Blair,” he growled.

“I...uh...it’s for life. A bond can’t – ”

Jim was out of his chair, lifting Blair off his feet. A dull clang echoed through the sand crawler when Blair’s back hit the wall.

“You entitled little bitch! What gives you the right?”

“I told you I didn’t have a choice!”

Jim closed his hand around Blair’s throat. Blair grabbed at his forearm, trying to loosen Jim’s grip, but Jim was much stronger.

“You don’t know anything about me!” Jim raged. “You don’t know if I’m married, or free to be anything to you! What makes you think I’d let you get away with this? I will kill you if I have to!”

Blair could breathe through the grip Jim had on his throat, but he couldn’t talk. Jim held him there and he wanted to carry out his threat. Snap the bastard’s neck and he’ll be done.

Jim let him go.

Blair collapsed to the ground.

Jim looked down at him. “Get out of my sight.”

Blair looked up at him. “If you kill me, you’ll die, too.” It sounded more like a plea than a threat.

“Do you think I care? Get out.”

Blair fled.

*

“Taggart to Ellison. We are closing on your position but you’re about to have company.”

Jim turned to the nav, but there was nothing useful, not even a perimeter display. “How close?”

“We’ll reach you first but there’ll be no time to hang around. Can you get out onto the sand? I’ll do a dive swoop.”

That meant it would be _very_ close. “Roger that. Ellison out.” He cut the trans and hit the control to open the rear hatch. “Blair! Time to go!”

Jim grabbed his rifle and primed it as he ran into the hold.

Blair was sitting near the supplies, a panicked look on his face as he stared at the opening hatch. “What’s going on?”

“We go out the hatch and run. We have to get at least fifty metres from the crawler. My people will bring the shuttle in low and we climb aboard using guide ropes. The shuttle won’t land. Okay?”

“Uh...yeah. I think so.” Blair got up, the motion stiff as if he was hurt.

Jim remembered slamming him up against the wall. Perhaps he had been a bit too forceful. Not that the bastard didn’t deserve it, but deserved or not, it was a problem if it was going to slow them down. Jim slung the rifle behind his shoulder and went to the rear hatch. They would leave the sand crawler while it was still in motion. It moved so slowly there was no danger in that, and it would make it easier to put the necessary distance between them. But he had to be sure they weren’t running into danger. He stepped into the open hatch.

The sun dazzled him and he threw up a hand to shield his eyes.

“Careful!” Blair yelped. “If all three suns are up, the rads out there are dangerous.”

“We won’t be exposed for long.” Jim squinted at the sky. “Shit, I can’t see a thing!”

“Relax, man. If you can’t see, use your other senses.” Blair leaned out of the crawler, shielding his own eyes. His shoulder bumped Jim’s arm and Jim flinched away. He never wanted to touch Blair again.

It was a good suggestion, though. Jim kept his eyes covered and listened. He knew the sound of the shuttle’s engines. He had flown it so often the sound was as familiar to him as his own voice. He got a good grip on the crawler and leaned out. He still couldn’t see more than sparkles and shadows, but he turned his face toward the shuttle and knew it was the right direction. His vision was useless, but with his eyes closed he could almost ‘see’ the shuttle.

He pulled himself back inside. “You need to go first, Blair. Down the cargo ramp and onto the sand. You’ll stumble as you hit solid ground so be ready for it. The shuttle is that way.” He pointed. “Just keep going. I’ll be right behind you.”

“I can’t jump!”

“Don’t jump. Run!” Jim gave Blair a shove.

He had a brief glimpse of Blair’s shocked look before he stumbled down the ramp. Blair’s momentum and the sand crawler’s motion did the rest. Blair, ignoring Jim’s advice, sprawled flat on his face in the hot sand. Jim smirked. To his credit, though, Blair picked himself up and started running. Jim followed. He didn’t fall.

The sand was _hot_ and not easy to run on, but Jim kept going. He caught up with Blair easily and slowed his pace to keep them together. The shuttle was close. Then it was above them. The airlock dilated and someone tossed out the guide ropes. Jim caught the first and passed it to Blair as the shuttle moved into position ahead of them, brushing the sand.

“Run!” Jim yelled.

The kid caught on quickly. Blair wrapped the guide rope around his hand, used it to match his pace to the shuttle’s motion then leapt for the airlock. Someone was there to grab him. Jim caught the rope as it was thrown back and hauled himself aboard.

“Close the airlock!” he shouted, and Henri, who had been helping Blair, ran to the control panel.

It closed slowly and locked with a thunk. The blessedly cool air of the shuttle surrounded Jim and he took in a deep breath, savouring it. He felt the sudden increase in G-force as the shuttle rose. Jim was used to it, but his stomach churned and he had to swallow hard, afraid he was going to throw up. He turned to Blair who was hanging on to the support, his face green.

Irritated, Jim snapped, “If you hurl, you’re cleaning it up. Get to the seat over there and strap in.” _Damn_ this bond! Jim never got flight-sick.

Blair edged toward the bench seat, but as the Gs increased he was struggling. Jim couldn’t watch. He moved to help him, shoved him into the seat and pulled down the straps. He had the straps fastened as the shuttle hit its maximum acceleration. Under that much power, Jim couldn’t stand. He dropped awkwardly to his knees and felt a dart of pain.

Blair gasped. “Are you okay?”

Jim dragged himself to the wall and held on. “I’m fine,” he insisted. The heavy acceleration lasted only a minute. The shuttle levelled off as it broke atmo. Gravity went from almost seven Gs under the acceleration to less than 0.3 – the shuttle’s artificial gravity. Jim pushed himself off the floor, using handholds in the bulkhead to keep himself steady.

“Keep the straps on,” he told Blair. He made his way across to the comm unit and pushed the button. “Ellison to cockpit.”

“Got you, Ellison,” Joel’s voice came back. “We’ll rendezvous with the _Panther_ in three.”

“Minutes or hours?”

Joel laughed. “Minutes. Megan’s order.”

Blair was feeling space-sick. Jim swallowed. “Call ahead. I want Rafe to meet us in the landing bay.”

“Roger wilco,” Joel answered crisply, but he sounded concerned. “Trouble?”

Jim looked at Blair. “Henri, get him a bucket, would you?” He turned back to the comm. “It’s nothing we can’t handle.”

“Then get off the comm so I can call. Two minutes.”

Two minutes later, gravity returned to normal as the shuttle landed aboard the _Panther_. Jim was relieved to note that Blair hadn’t thrown up. He helped him out of the straps.

Joel came in just as Henri opened the airlock.

“Thanks, Joel. That was a slick pickup.”

Joel grinned. “Slicker than you know. There was a hostile force not three minutes away.”

“I heard them. They’ll follow the _Panther_.”

“Megan’s on it. Welcome back, Captain.”

Jim smiled, but he knew it wasn’t a good smile. He saw Rafe waiting for them and beckoned to him as he climbed out of the shuttle. “Rafe, this is Blair. Please take him to the brig. Level three security.”

Rafe looked surprised but he stepped forward as Blair emerged. “Yes, sir.” He moved to Blair’s side. “Come with me, Blair.”

Blair looked at Jim, his eyes pleading.

Jim turned away from him. “Joel, I’m going to my cabin. I really need to scrub that planet off me. Could you let Megan know? Get us out of here and I’ll join her on the bridge when I’m done.”

“Sure, Jim.” Joel watched Rafe march Blair away. “What happened down there?” he asked.

Jim shook his head. “Later, Joel. Later.”

 


	6. Panther (1)

The shower felt wonderful.

The _Panther_ was almost completely water-efficient so Jim, knowing nothing would be wasted, stayed under the hot water until the system flashed a warning that he was using too much of it. He still didn’t feel clean, but he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed into his cabin.

He was unsurprised to find Megan waiting for him. She was on his bunk, her red hair spread across his pillow.

“Feeling better?” she asked and shifted to make room for him. She had taken off the jacket she usually wore and Jim could see the lovely curves of he body under the tight shirt. He was glad to see her, but he felt no stirring of desire.

“I’m okay,” he offered. Aware there was little point in pretence, he let the towel fall as he walked toward her. “It was a rough one.” He sat down on the bunk.

“I guessed that when you sent our paycheck to the brig. Do you want to tell me what happened?” She stroked his arm.

Jim covered her fingers with his. “I’m sorry, Meg. I’m not up to it tonight.”

“I see that. It’s okay. Just tell me how I can help.”

_You can’t_ , Jim thought, but this was Megan’s way. If he told her he wanted sex she’d do everything she could to make it good for both of them. If he wanted to be alone, she would go. Megan was his best friend, sometime lover and trusted business partner. In that order. He smiled and lay back on the bed, stretching his hands above his head so she could snuggle in against his side. “Just stay with me a while.”

She cuddled up against him. “Any time. You want to talk?”

He didn’t, but the crew had a right to know, if not exactly what happened, then the consequences of it. So he sighed and gave it a try. “Blair had a lover. He was killed during the escape. Turns out he was more than a lover.” Jim told Megan what happened aboard the sand crawler. He told it straight, the bare minimum of detail.

By the time he was done, she was sitting up in the bunk. “Why didn’t you kill him?”

“I still might. Come on, Meg, you know why. We need this paycheck.”

“Not that badly, we don’t! Is that the only reason? Money?”

Jim sighed. “I don’t know. This bond is real, Megan. I feel it and I can’t trust myself with it.”

“Man up!” she snapped, shocking him.

“What? Megan...”

“I get it, okay! But you can’t be this indecisive, Jim. It’s not like you.”

Jim understood. It was about the team and he had to lead them. “Then help me. Megan, I don’t know what to do.”

“Put some clothes on, then. We’ll figure this out.”

Jim rolled off the bunk and went to his closet. The crew of the _Panther_ didn’t wear a uniform but they did all tend to wear similar clothing aboard ship: a charcoal grey pantsuit and soft shoes. It was comfortable and practical for lower gravity. Jim dressed, ran a comb through his hair and pulled out a couple of collapsible chairs. He sat down in one; Megan took the other.

“Alright,” Jim said. “Hit me.”

“You’re confused about your feelings. Why? What’s so confusing?”

Jim didn’t know where to begin.

“Is it the rape?” Megan asked gently. When again she got no answer she asked, softly, “Did he make you enjoy it?”

Jim’s head jerked up. He knew he had answered the question with the gesture and his face burned. “Shit, Megan.”

“It can happen,” she said. “The physical reaction is involuntary and you...well, you’ve always had a strong sex drive.”

“It wasn’t sex, it was rape.”

“I know. But let’s begin there and clear up any confusion. When you first met Blair, were you attracted to him? Even a little?”

It was on the tip of Jim’s tongue to deny it. The question was offensive. He hadn’t wanted what happened! But as he drew a breath to say that, he remembered that first sight of Blair. He frowned. “No. I wasn’t attracted. But I was...curious.”

“Curious?”

“He seemed...different. Ambi. So much so I thought our intel might have been wrong about his gender.”

Megan nodded with a small smile. “That would get your attention. But you didn’t want him?”

“No. That night, I went to his room. I expected him to be alone but he wasn’t. I couldn’t leave until I talked to him so I had to watch them together. Or, try not to watch, you know?”

She grinned. “I know.”

“It was quite a show, but I wasn’t turned on.”

“Then no matter what happened later, you should be clear about this. You didn’t want him. You didn’t do anything to invite it.”

Jim grimaced.

“What?”

“You’re right, but...” Jim hesitated, but went on. “He said he was going to die, Megan. If he _had_ asked...”

“No paycheck is worth that.”

“Maybe not, but it isn’t just about me, is it? Have you read the contract we signed?”

“Yes. There are penalties and we really need the money. Even so, who are you kidding? There’s no one on this crew who would try to save that little shit if they knew what he did.”

Jim shrugged. “I’m kidding myself, maybe. That’s just it, Megan. I hate him, and I feel...protective. I see him struggling or hurting and I want to help.”

She nodded. “And you think that’s the bond he created between you.”

“Well, what else could it be?”

“You’re protective by nature, Jim. In spite of your reputation, helping people in trouble is just what you do.”

“Not like this. I can’t let him control me.” Jim sat up straight, his own words suddenly making it clear to him. He stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“To the brig.” Jim straightened his shirt. “But first, I need to test a theory.”

*

First, Jim visited the galley. There was no one else there so he put together a tray of standard ship’s rations, sweetened dried fruit and water. He carried it with him to the brig, but he didn’t go inside. Instead, he approached the opposite wall, where a plate covered a plasma conduit. He set the tray on the floor, then worked at the cover plate until it came away, exposing the plasma flow.

The flow appeared mostly blue, with threads of glowing pink, purple and white. He glanced around to make sure he was alone, then thrust his right hand into the centre of the glowing energy flow.

Jim hissed at the pain, even though he expected it. It felt like his skin was in flames. He clenched his teeth, determined not to cry out and fighting his own instincts in order to keep his hand in there. The plasma flow did no physical damage. Something about the energy stimulated the nerves to send pain signals to the brain. The longer he kept his hand in the plasma flow, the worse the pain became. He looked at his hand and it didn’t seem possible that it wasn’t broken and bloody. But his flesh was intact. Had he been able to stand the pain, Jim could keep his hand in there for an hour and suffer nothing worse than a mild scald. _If_ he could stand it, but he couldn’t. Not for much longer.

He yanked his hand back. Fuck! That hurt. He leaned back against the wall and cradled his hand against his chest. After a few minutes, Jim stood up again. He flexed his hand a few times, then replaced the plate over the plasma flow.

Now he was ready to see Blair.

*

Any interstellar ship needed a brig. When you’re isolated for weeks or even months at a time it’s essential for ship discipline, which is in turn essential to keeping the whole crew alive. The _Panther_ ’s brig was little different from the crew cabins. The only significant difference was the containment field facilities – and the fact that the cabin didn’t open from the inside.

Jim had ordered level three security, which meant both containment field and locked door. He checked that the containment field was active, then punched in the code that opened the door.

Blair leapt up as Jim entered. “Jim! Are you alright? What happened?”

Jim smiled grimly. Blair felt the pain of the plasma flow. Good to know he hadn’t put himself through that for nothing.

“I brought you some food,” Jim said. He set it on the table, returned to the door and set the containment field to fade for three seconds. He pushed the tray to the other side of the table and the field reactivated: a shimmering wall of force separating the two men.

Blair examined the tray. He picked up the water flask then set it down again.

“I don’t understand,” he said unhappily. “You lock me up in here, yet you bring me water.”

“You’re not on Perchen any more. Water isn’t a special honour, it’s just what we drink. You need to get used to drinking more than you’re used to. We’ll start with that flask and up your intake slowly.” Jim nodded toward the tray. “That’s a standard ration. And it’s not why I’m here.”

Blair moved toward the containment field. “I’m – ”

“Shut up.”

Blair shut up.

“What you felt just now was me making a point. You forced this bond between us but I can use it to make your life hell if I choose. Now that you understand that, we can talk.”

“Jim...”

“Explain to me why I should let you live.” That might not be the best place to start, but Jim was genuinely torn. He wanted a reason that would make sense, not just to everyone else, but to him.

Blair shrugged. “We are bonded. If I die, you could die, too.”

Jim met his eyes levelly. “Three things wrong with that. First, I have no reason to believe anything you say and you can’t prove that. Ash died and you didn’t – that seems to contradict your theory. Second, you’re assuming I care. I would rather die than live tied to you like this. Third, you said _could_. I’m used to taking risks, kid, and even ninety per cent odds might be worth it for the pleasure of flushing you out an airlock. So try again. Give me a reason to keep _you_ alive.”

Blair stared at him, speechless, for a moment. Then he shook his head. “You’re convincing, but I don’t believe you. If you were that careless with your life you would be dead.”

“Really.” Jim turned to the panel beside the door and tapped in an order, activating the terminal on Blair’s side of the containment field. “You don’t know me. You don’t know what my life is like. You don’t even know my real name. How can you even begin to guess how I feel or what I’d do?”

“Maybe I can’t, but – ”

“I’ll tell you what, professor. Take an hour and figure out who you’re dealing with.” Jim nodded toward the terminal. “My name is James Ellison. Until three years ago, I was a captain in the Cascadion Fleet, so most of my life is public record. Go ahead, look me up. I’ll be back.”

Jim left quickly. He locked the door behind him with his personal code, so no one could enter without him.

He had seen Blair react when he heard the name, James Ellison. So he wasn’t entirely unknown to the kid. But he’d only reacted; he hadn’t been scared. He would be, when he accessed Jim’s history. For once, Jim’s undeserved reputation would work in his favour.

The truth of what happened on what Jim still thought of as “the Eyann run” would never be made public. Jim’s life and reputation were sacrificed to conceal a truth the public couldn’t deal with. What Blair would find was the story of a monster, a madman.

Blair would read about the Captain Ellison who destroyed the entire colony of Eyann. He would find the Captain Ellison who murdered more than a million people. Who, on the return journey, went on an insane rampage and killed half of his own crew. He was court-martialled, of course, and sentenced for the crimes, but Captain Ellison had friends in very high places. Friends who bought him a full pardon.

The story was true...and yet none of it was the truth. Yes, he’d been forced to destroy the colony. Yes, several of his crew died on the return journey. But if he’d really gone crazy and murdered all those people no amount of friends in high places could have bought him a pardon. He’d allowed the Cascadion Senate to trash his reputation in exchange for that pardon because the truth was much, much worse.

Very few people knew the truth, and Blair certainly wouldn’t find it. He would see the James Ellison everyone else saw. That would give Jim an advantage, but he found himself wishing it could be different.

*

When Jim strode onto the bridge he found Megan in the Captain’s chair. She had tied her hair up, but otherwise looked just as she did in his cabin. He smiled at her. She stood and offered him his chair.

“What’s our status?” Jim asked.

“We deployed decoys to cover our exit from the Perchen system. There’s no sign of pursuit, but they did get our registry.”

So Perchen security knew the _Panther_ had been in their territory. “Have they done anything about it?”

Megan shrugged. “I’ve been watching the sub-wave and haven’t seen anything. It looks like a clean getaway.”

It wasn’t difficult to read the subtext. “You don’t trust it,” Jim said, making it a statement not a question.

“Do you?” she challenged.

Joel looked up from the helm. “No one’s behind us, Captain. It’s as clean as we’ve ever managed.”

Jim nodded. It meant they had a little time and wouldn’t have to fight their way out of the system. That was a win.

“Blair is too valuable to the Xantrisi for them to let him go easily. But they were supposed to release him years ago. They can’t pursue us officially without evidence we took Blair against his will. That’s easy to fake, but it takes time.”

“So you think they’ll put out a bulletin for us?” Megan asked.

“I’m sure they will. The question is when: before or after they send someone to steal him back? What’s our course? Avaline?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

Joel turned the viewscreen on and called up the charts. “Course laid in, Captain.”

Jim studied the course displayed on the chart. It was too direct. If all the Xantrisi had was _Panther_ ’s registry, they would have to guess on their direction. Avaline was the obvious choice. “Hold course until we reach the Gallan Nebula. Change our heading...toward Racilion, I think. We won’t need to go all the way there but hold position in the asteroid belt if I haven’t given you a new heading before we get there.”

“Evasive,” Megan commented. “Makes sense.”

“Maintain silent running until we’re clear of the nebula. We’ll need to call our client then.”

Jim moved to the Captain’s chair, then, and sat down. It was an odd feeling. It always was: coming back to _Panther_ after a mission. She was hardly a ship of the line, like those he captained back in the old days. But the _Panther_ was home. As Jim sank into the warm, familiar leather, he felt he wouldn’t trade the _Panther_ and her crew for anything. Not even for his old command.

He ran his fingertips over the control panel on the armrest. Every bump and scratch was an old friend. That ridge on the intercom was there when he bought the _Panther_. He found a scratch below it that was new. The LEDs were warm under his touch and he rubbed them lightly. His gaze drifted to the starchart as Joel input their new course, but he wasn’t really looking at it. Jim was mesmerised by the feel of the controls under his hand.

“Jim!” Megan said sharply. She tapped his shoulder with more force than seemed necessary to Jim.

He looked at her. “What, Megan?”

“Are you okay?” She looked really worried.

“I think so,” Jim answered automatically, but he had learned to pay attention to Megan. He considered. “I’m tired, but...”

Rafe was standing between Jim and the starchart. He hadn’t been there a moment before. And unless Rafe had learned to teleport...

“I guess I fell asleep for a moment,” Jim admitted. “Rafe?”

“Captain,” he said. “I need to know about the prisoner. In private?”

If Rafe was offering privacy he had already guessed something. Or thought he had. As security officer Rafe was entitled to know. But while the same rationale might not apply to the whole crew, Jim wasn’t in the habit of keeping details to himself. He needed to figure out what he was willing to say and say it to everyone.

“Can it wait?” Jim asked evasively.

“Details, sure. I just need to know why he’s locked up.”

“Because he’s dangerous. I, uh, I don’t want to share the details until I’ve talked to him again, but he, uh, he assaulted me back on Perchen.”

Rafe frowned. “Did he not want to leave?”

“That’s not the problem. I’ll explain when I’m sure I understand the explanation. For now, he stays in the brig.”

“If you had a fight...do you want the doc to take a look at him?”

Jim started to say Blair wasn’t hurt, then he remembered slamming him against the wall hard enough to shake the sand crawler. Maybe that wasn’t a bad idea.

“Or do you need her to take a look at _you_?” Rafe added pointedly.

“I’m just bruised,” Jim answered.

Megan said softly, “You should get checked out anyway.” She knew what really happened.

Jim nodded reluctantly. “Rafe, I need you to keep an eye on the talk out there. The Xantrisi are going to come after us. If they try to hire, we’ll need to be prepared.”

“Already monitoring, Captain.”

Jim smiled. “Good. Megan, I’ve lost track of ship’s time. Who’s on shift?”

“You have the bridge, Captain.” She smiled. “I’m coming to the end of my shift. Joel will take the conn if you want to get some rest. And it’s twenty-thirty, ship’s time. Early evening.”

Jim rose from the chair. “In that case, you have the bridge. Ask the doc to come to my cabin in about two hours. I have to see Blair first. Crew conference at seven hundred.”

*

Blair was at the terminal when the brig door swished open. Jim saw him jump up and blank the screen. He wondered whether that was an automatic response or if Blair was hiding something from Jim.

Jim let the door close behind him. When he met Blair’s eyes through the containment field, he felt the bond between them, truly felt it for the first time. For Jim it was like an invisible channel between them that flared when their eyes met. It was an intense throb of sexual energy. His hand twitched, his body automatically reaching out toward Blair in the instant before Jim controlled the impulse. It sparked his anger and he knew his eyes turned cold.

Blair raised his hands as if warding Jim off. “Look, man, I’m really sorry. I never would – ”

Jim interrupted, “If you’re about to say something like you wouldn’t have done this if you knew who I am, save your breath. That doesn’t make it better, it just makes you a fucking coward.”

Blair paled. “You asked me to give you a reason. Are you gonna let me speak this time? If you’re not, what’s the point?”

The kid had spunk. Jim stepped toward the field. “I want to hear what you have to say. But I have a question for you first.”

Blair swallowed. “Okay.”

“Do you believe that I’m ready to kill you?”

Blair swallowed again. He reached for the water bottle and took a sip. “Yes,” he croaked.

_Good. Now we’re getting somewhere._ “So. Tell me why I should let you live.”

Blair sipped the water again. “I would point out that you’re obviously being paid to deliver me alive, but if you’re really ready to die to kill me I guess you don’t care that much about the money.”

“Smart of you,” Jim agreed. “So?”

“Do you understand what I am?”

Jim narrowed his eyes. “A selfish little shit.”

Blair flinched. “I’m a pathfinder. On Cascadion – that’s your homeworld, right? - they say guide.”

Jim didn’t know much about guides. Nothing he knew explained this. Still, it was interesting. “Go on,” he said.

“Pathfinders don’t _have_ to bond. But once we are bonded, we can’t live without it. I was made to bond with Ash too young so the Archon could use me for his own purposes. My pathfinder training was... incomplete. I know there are things they didn’t teach me because they wanted me to be...” he shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Jim, you’ve got no reason to believe me, but this is the truth. I’m not the type of person who would use someone else like this. After Ash died...I wasn’t in my right mind. I don’t remember what I was thinking, or _if_ I was thinking. I never decided to use that patch or to – to force you. It’s like I wasn’t in my own head.”

“Excuses won’t cut it.”

“It’s not an excuse. There’s no excuse for what I did. No possible justification. You want me dead and you should. I’m not making excuses. I’m trying to explain it. Not that I really understand it myself. I think Ash kept me stable. Grounded. More than I ever realised. Without him, my instincts took over. I was no more in control than you were.” He turned away, shaking his head. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

Actually, it did. Hesitantly, Jim asked, “If you were in your right mind, what would you have done?”

“Died,” Blair answered at once. He sat down on the bunk. “I don’t want to go on without Ash. I don’t want a bond with anyone else. But now we’re both stuck with it unless...”

“Unless what?” Jim pounced on the word.

Blair took a deep breath. “I was taught that there’s no way to break a bond, but they could have lied to me. If it is possible, they’ll know on Tremainine. That’s where we have to go.”

“Tremainine? If you knew that, why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I only just found out. You told me to do some research.”

“I told you to research _me_ ,” Jim pointed out.

“That took five minutes. I spent the rest of the hour trying to figure out what we can do about this. If there’s anything.”

“So we go to Tremainine. Then what?”

“I try to find someone who can train pathfinders. Hopefully they can help us break the bond.” He signed, resigned. “If it can’t be broken, maybe we can at least weaken it enough that you can survive my death.”

He had done what Jim demanded: given him a reason to keep him alive. For now. Jim nodded. “I’ll set course for Tremainine.”

“There’s one more thing, Captain Ellison.”

“What’s that?”

“I swear to you, if I can break this bond, I will. But...you may not want to.”

“Oh, I want to.”

“Do you remember the night we met? On my balcony?”

“I remember.”

“When you touched me, something happened.”

Jim frowned. “You did something to me.”

“No, I didn’t. I mean, nothing deliberate. We touched, and it triggered something in you. And that was _before_ the bond, man. I never felt anything like that with Ash. I’m not sure about this, but I think...” Blair looked up, meeting Jim’s eyes. He looked scared. “I think it means you’re a sentinel.”

“No, I’m not,” Jim answered instantly. Although, that wasn’t quite true. Jim was the product of genetic experimentation that was now illegal. He knew he wasn’t quite human. The genetic tampering did include some sentinel genes. But he wasn’t a sentinel. Those genes weren’t active. He amended, “I know it’s in my DNA but it’s dormant. It always has been.”

“That’s what I’m saying. I think when we touched, it activated that genetic trait in you. It won’t be dormant any more. And if I’m right...you might need me. Or someone like me.”

The thought was repulsive. Jim swallowed back bile. “No. That’s not possible.” _Not acceptable_.

Blair’s eyes were sympathetic, and that only made Jim feel worse.

“Maybe we’ll get answers on Tremainine.”

 


	7. Panther (2)

At 0200, ship’s time, Jim could no longer sleep. He rose, dressed and left his cabin. He was tired, so he headed to the galley and started to prepare a pot of coffee. He ground the beans fresh, savouring the rich, familiar scent as it filled the air around him. The time he spent on Perchen had given him a new appreciation for what he drank. They didn’t drink hot water on Perchen. One reason, Jim was sure, was because the last thing anyone wanted in that sweltering heat was a warming drink, but there was another reason. Heating water created steam, which wasted the water. Jim preferred hot drinks: tea, coffee, spiced wine. He spooned the ground beans into a filter and added water to the reservoir. He had just set it heating when the galley door opened.

“You’d better not break anything,” Cassie threatened from the doorway.

Jim turned to her with a smile. “I’m just making coffee.”

“That won’t help you to sleep,” she said in her doctor’s voice.

“I’m done sleeping.”

“In that case...” Cassie let the door swish closed behind her as she stepped into the room, “what are you hungry for?”

Jim had hired Cass Welles as the _Panther_ ’s medic, but her duties as doctor were light most of the time. Since Jim wouldn’t fly without a doctor aboard, she could have freeloaded the rest of the time, but Cass wasn’t that type of person. She decided to become the ship’s cook, though she would skin Jim alive for calling her a ‘cook’. She was a chef, and the only person he knew who could produce a gourmet meal from ships’ rations.

Jim poured coffee into a cup and carried it to a table. “I don’t know. Anything.”

Cassie opened cupboards and set knives and boards on the worktop. “Come on, Captain. Give me a planet, at least.”

“Anything you make will be wonderful.”

“A planet,” she repeated impatiently.

“That’s easy. Home.”

“Cascadion. Okay, I can work with that.” She set a pan on the heat and started work. “So, tell me about the food on Perchen.”

Jim had expected this. Cassie always wanted to know about the way other people cooked and ate. “The good, the bad or the ugly?” he asked her, meaning high class cuisine, regular or street food.

Cassie smiled. “All three.”

_I might have known._ “Well, the street food was awful.”

“Details!”

Jim thought back. “It was something like a filled flatbread. The bread was very dry and turned sort of rubbery when it was filled. Tasted of nothing. They fill it with...well, spiced slop is a flattering description.” Jim grimaced. It hadn’t tasted bad, but it looked terrible.

“What spices?” Cassie asked. The pan hissed as she dropped something into it.

“I don’t know. Local stuff. Had a real bite to it.” A delicious smell reached him. “Where did you find _fish_?” he asked, amazed.

“I had some saved. Smoked and vacuum-packed it lasts a long time. I think you deserve a real taste of home.”

A little of Jim’s good humour vanished at her oblique reference to the rape. He told Cassie everything he could remember about it when she examined him. Doctor Cassie confirmed what Jim already knew: there was no physical injury. Even the bullet graze was healed. But that didn’t mean he was okay, and they both knew it.

Cassie carried two plates to his table and set one in front of him. “There you go. Just like your momma makes, I’m sure.”

Jim’s mother cooked with an autochef, but he kept quiet and picked up a fork. On his plate was a fillet of smoked fish, speckled with herbs and butter melting on top alongside a lightly whipped omelette. Jim cut into the fish with one side of his fork; it flaked apart easily. “Sea bass?” he guessed.

Cassie shook her head. “It’s called reslong. From Shaladon, not Cascadion, but it’s very similar to Cascadion sea bass.”

Jim lifted a little of the fish to his mouth. He made a show of closing his eyes as he tasted it, but the moment it touched his tongue it was no longer an act. It was an exquisite combination of flavours. He tasted the subtle umami of the smoked reslong, the sharp tang of citrus, green herbs and just a little heat and spice.

“Cass, this is amazing.”

“Thank you.” She took a mouthful from her own plate. “Rumour has it we’re headed to Tremainine.”

“That’s right.”

“Have you thought about our route?”

Jim wondered where she was going with this. “It’s a bit indirect, but I want to make sure we’re not being followed.”

“That isn’t what I meant, Jim. Unless you plotted the weirdest course in history, we’ll pass through the Rigel sector.”

Jim set his fork down with a clatter. “Damn. I didn’t even think of that.” Several of the crew were from Rigel or had friends and family there. They didn’t pass that way often, so when they did, they always stopped for a while. But Jim couldn’t pay his crew until he’d been paid for this job.

“Don’t waste the reslong,” Cassie chided.

Jim obediently took another mouthful. He had asked her for a taste of home and that was exactly what she delivered. Jim remembered catching sea bass on boating vacations as a boy. Roasting the catch on a beach, fish impaled on sea-smoothed sticks over open flames. Throwing driftwood into the fire to make the flames turn a rainbow of colours. Squeezing lime juice over the cooked fish, the acid stinging tiny cuts in his fingers. The smell of salt and seaweed in the air. The gentle shoosh of the waves. His brother, giggling at crabs in a rockpool.

“Jim! Captain!” Cassie grabbed both of his shoulders and shook him hard.

Jim blinked. She was standing over him with a scanner, her face etched with concern. He took a breath. “I’m okay. I guess I feel asleep for a moment.”

“That wasn’t sleep,” Cassie said, her eyes on the scanner. “Your brain was fully active. Temporal, occipital, parietal...no sign of abnormal electrical activity...”

“You’re overreacting, Cass.”

“Really? What’s the last thing I said to you?”

Jim frowned. “We were talking about our route taking us near Sabensah. You told me not to waste the fish.”

“That was nearly half an hour ago, Captain. You were...I don’t know. I thought it was a seizure but the scanner disagrees.”

“Seizure? Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Is it? You didn’t even notice when I left the room, Captain.” Cass sat down at the table. “Has this happened before? Do you remember drifting off like that, or losing time?”

She was serious, so Jim considered the question carefully. “Maybe. Earlier, on the bridge.”

“Then you need a full exam in my medbay. But first, I want you to rest.”

“I’m not tired.” Jim shook his head.

“I don’t care. I’m going to make you some tea with a light sedative and you’re going back to your cabin. Sleep, read, play some music. I don’t care as long as you relax until the crew meeting. Okay?”

Jim knew an order when he heard one. “Yes, ma’am.”

“One more thing. A favour.” Cass headed back to the kitchen area.

“Name it,” Jim agreed easily. Cass could be a pain in the ass, but she never asked for too much.

“I’d like your permission to visit the prisoner.”

“Blair? Why?”

“To learn about Perchen.”

Jim grinned. “Food again?”

“He’ll know much more than you learned.”

Of course. “You can visit him. Just keep the containment field up.”

*

It wasn’t possible to gather the entire crew together when the _Panther_ was underway. There had to be someone at the helm, others at key systems. But almost everyone was in the conference room at seven hundred when Jim walked in. Some of them had stayed past the end of their shift; some were up early. Jim wanted to make this fast.

He took his place at the head of the table. “You all know by now that we’re heading for Tremainine. It’s time you know why, because there’s a choice you have to make.

“Our target, Blair, is in the brig because during our escape from Perchen, his bond-mate was killed. He’s a pathfinder and can’t live without a bond, so he forced one on me.” Jim went on quickly, giving them no time to ask questions. “We are going to Tremainine to find a way to break the bond. Until we do that, we can’t deliver Blair to his family and we can’t get paid.

“We’ll be calling at Sabensah to refuel on our way to Tremainine. I know that many of you will want to take some shore leave there. Here’s the way it is. If you want to, you can disembark at Sabensah, but the _Panther_ won’t wait for you. We’ll go on to Tremainine with a skeleton crew and pick you up on our return. But I can’t pay you for this job until I’m paid and I don’t know how long we’ll be on Tremainine. You won’t be paid for the time you’re on Sabensah, either.”

Rafe looked grim. “Can you really fly without all of us?”

“I can fly without everyone who has a tie to Sabensah. Even you, if Connor stays.”

“Of course I’m staying,” Megan said instantly.

Henri cleared his throat. “How long will you and the _Panther_ be gone?”

Jim sighed. “I wish I knew. We’ll have to stay until our business there is done. I’m afraid I can’t even guess how long that will take. A few days. A few years. No clue.”

Henri frowned. “Then how is this fair to any of us? If we stay aboard it could be years before we come back this way. If we stay on Sabensah and you don’t come back... what then? We’ll have no pay. Can we sign aboard another ship?”

Shit. Jim saw the trap but it was his own fault. The _Panther_ was no ship of the line and his crew needed their pay. He glanced at Megan, who was _Panther_ ’s quartermaster as well as XO.

“He’s right, Jim,” she said softly.

Jim nodded. “What do you recommend to make it fair?”

He intended the question for Megan, but it was Henri who answered. “Captain, we all know you can’t pay us for this job until it’s done. But a man needs money, or a way to earn it.”

_Then stay aboard,_ Jim wanted to say, but he had to find a way out of this. He hesitated, doing the calculations in his head and wishing he had time to double-check with a computer.

“Alright. How about this. It’s seven days from Sabensah to Tremainine, probably longer with a skeleton crew. So the shortest time the _Panther_ will be gone is three weeks. The longest is harder to predict, but I’ll offer this much. If the _Panther_ doesn’t return to Sabensah in twenty weeks, those who choose to stay there can claim what you’re owed for this job from my account on Cascadion.” He winced inwardly as he said it. That claim would wipe him out. It might do worse than that. But it was fair and he was asking a lot of his crew. “If we’re back within the twenty weeks – and that’s my intention – you’ll be back aboard within sixty hours of my signal or forfeit what you’re owed.”

Jim looked at Henri. He didn’t look happy, but he nodded, agreeing the offer was fair. Jim turned to every person he expected to stay behind. Each of them nodded.

“One more thing,” Jim said then. I know it’s a long time to wait for your pay. Take any work you want to on Sabensah, as long as you return to the _Panther_ when I call. But if the _Panther_ is late, some of you will need to sign aboard a new ship. I understand. But those who wait will be paid for the time we’re away, _if_ we are late. That’s my best offer, people. If it’s not good enough better jump ship when we dock.”

Megan moved to his side, silent but clear support for his proposal.

“If you intend to disembark on Sabensah,” Jim concluded, “let Connor know before third watch. I’ll put the terms into contract and register it on Sabensah before we depart.”

There were a few more questions, but a few minutes later everyone left to resume their work, leaving Jim along with Megan and Cassie.

Megan picked up her pad. “Can we really make it with most of the crew gone?”

Jim shrugged. “The _Panther_ will fly with six.”

“But she can’t _fight_ with just six. What happens when the Xantrisi find us?”

_Then we’re screwed_ , Jim thought. But all he said was, “We’ll have more than six.”

*

“So we’ll be at Tremainine in ten days?” Blair asked.

“Ten to twelve,” Jim confirmed. “Is that enough time for you to find someone there who can help us?”

He nodded. “It should be.”

They were in the brig, once again talking through the containment field. The high security was beginning to seem ludicrous. Blair wasn’t really a threat to anyone, and he was co-operating. Jim made a mental note to instruct Rafe to downgrade the security.

“There’s one more thing, Blair,” he said. “I need to make contact with Avaline and they’ll want to talk to you.”

Blair stiffened for a moment when Jim mentioned Avaline. He backed away a little, though the confined quarters didn’t let him move far. “My family sold me to the Xantrisi,” he said bitterly. “I don’t have much to say to them.”

Jim shrugged. “I’m being paid to get you home, kid. You’ll have to work out your family issues when you get there. Right now I only care what you’ll say on the trans.”

Blair gave an oddly cynical smile. “You threatened my life, Captain Ellison. Are you asking me not to mention that?”

“Obviously. But I’m more concerned about this side-trip to Tremainine. You need to explain to them why it’s necessary and I don’t think the truth will help either of us.”

“Why not?”

“There are several reasons. If you don’t trust the cartel, letting them know that you’re a guide is a big risk. Letting them know you’re bonded gives them power over you – the same way the Xantrisi used Ash. And cartel leaders have a tendency to think anything they want can be bought. _I’m_ not for sale. My services, but not me.”

“You think if they know we’re bonded, they’ll want to keep you?”

Truthfully, Jim thought it more likely they would kill him to rid Blair of the bond. “I don’t know,” he said. “I won’t risk it. Can you do this? Talk to them?”

Blair swallowed. “Yes. When?”

“Soon. You can patch into the trans from here. I’ll alert you when it’s time.”

Jim headed back to the bridge. He didn’t have much confidence that Blair would pull this off, but he didn’t have much choice. If he didn’t contact Avaline, he would risk the payment for this job. If he contacted them but didn’t let them talk to Blair, they would come after him. If Blair couldn’t convince them it was necessary to go to Tremainine, Jim would have an impossible choice: risk Avaline with the bond intact, or defy Avaline and risk his payment.

The bridge door opened and Megan rose, yielding the captain’s chair to him. Jim took his seat. “Rafe, establish a link with Avaline and get our client liaison on the line. Be ready to patch Blair in on my order.”

“We’re getting close to the nebula, Captain,” Rafe answered. “It might take a while to get a stable link.”

“That’s okay. Let me know when you’re ready.” Jim ran through the essential data: ship’s course and speed, any notes for his attention and then updated his log. With that done, he spent some time on the ship’s business: mostly figuring out how to manage with the minimal crew he expected to have when they left Sabensah.

Finally, Rafe had his link with Avaline and requested the attention of their client. “Two minutes, Captain,” he reported.

“Thanks. On the main screen.” Jim opened an internal channel to the brig. “Blair? We’ll be on trans with Avaline in a minute or two. Are you ready?”

“I’m ready, Captain.”

“Standby.” Jim cut the trans and waited.

It wasn’t long before the familiar face appeared on the screen. Cartels dealt with their independent contractors at a distance. Jim knew the person who hired him was high in the Avaline cartel, but he’d dealt with the client only through a liaison. She’s a slim and pretty woman who wore her hair in a plain bob, in apparent defiance of the elaborate styles fashionable in Avaline. Her clothing was simple but stylish: dark blue scarf over a red shirt that matched her hair.

“Captain Ellison,” she said.

Jim felt his shoulder muscles tense. “We have Blair aboard the _Panther_ ,” he reported, “and we’re out of Xantrisi space. We’ve detected no sign of pursuit so far.”

“I would like to see Blair,” she said. It was clearly an order.

“He’ll be on trans in a moment,” Jim answered. He glanced at Rafe who nodded, confirming he was ready to link Blair in.

“When will you reach here?”

The question wasn’t unexpected but Jim’s tension wound up tighter. “We are on schedule,” he answered cautiously, “but there’s a problem. Blair doesn’t want to go direct to Avaline.”

She leaned closer to the camera at her end, her eyes flashing. “Is that an issue, Captain?”

“That depends,” Jim said, knowing she would order him to set course for Avaline immediately. “I don’t think he’s asking lightly and it appears safe. The Xantrisi will expect us to make directly for Avaline-controlled space. A side-trip could work to our advantage.”

“How long do you expect this to delay you?”

“That’s unclear.” Jim nodded to Rafe. “I’ll let Blair explain.” Through the trans, Jim met Blair’s eyes. He didn’t like this. If Blair accused Jim of mistreating him things could go bad very, very fast.

Blair was staring at the screen, but not, apprently, at Jim. He looked pale. He tried to speak but nothing came out. He took a deep breath, his agitation visible. Then he tried again.

“N-naomi. Hi.”

“Blair! It’s so good to see you! Are you well? You don’t look well.” She spoke rapidly, a complete change from when she addressed Jim.

Blair took another deep breath. “I’m as well as you’d expect after ten years as a Xantrisi slave.” He spoke with obvious resentment.

Jim winced. “Be nice,” he said softly.

Naomi flinched, but she covered her emotion quickly. When she spoke, her voice was once again measured and even. “I never believed the Xantrisi assurances that you were being treated as one of them, but our hands were tied. Once you are back on Avaline, we can ensure they pay for mistreating you.”

_Be careful, Blair_ , Jim willed. This was critical.

Blair glanced away from the monitor. “I’m not coming to Avaline, Naomi. At least not yet.”

“I don’t understand,” Naomi said.

“I had to leave a lot behind on Perchen. I know it was necessary to our escape, but my studies are the only thing I had to myself. Captain Ellison agreed to take me somewhere I can replace the books I lost.”

“Is that the only reason?” Naomi asked.

Blair shrugged. “Someone on Avaline sold me to the Xantrisi. I won’t willingly return until I know I’m safe.”

“Captain Ellison?”

Jim answered crisply. “I agreed to take Blair to Tremainine. I didn’t agree to keep him away from Avaline, but I do understand his worry. Blair’s entitled to some assurances.”

“Can you afford this delay, Captain?” Naomi asked him pointedly.

It was Jim’s turn to shrug. “I said we haven’t detected pursuit, but it would be a mistake to assume that no one is looking for us. I think it would be dangerous to head for Avaline space until we’ve shaken whoever the Xantrisi send after Blair. Going to Tremainine gives us that opportunity and it won’t delay us any more than the alternative routes.”

She leaned back and sighed. “Very well, Captain. Please stay in contact.”

“Of course.”

“Blair, I’m not the head of our cartel, but I’ll do my best to get you the guarantee you want. I will arrange a line of credit for you on Tremainine.”

“Thank you,” Blair said.

“And, son, dont’ take too long. The Xantrisi have no legal right to take you back, but I can’t protect you until you enter Avaline space.”

Jim gripped the arm of his chair hard. _Son!_ She was his _mother?_

“I understand,” Blair said.

“We’ll keep him safe,” Jim said.

“I expect no less, Captain Ellison.” She cut the trans at her end, leaving Jim facing Blair on the screen. _Son._ He thought he was dealing with a liaison, an underling. Instead he’d been talking with someone in the first tier of the cartel. _Son_.

*

The refuel and resupply stop at Sabensah gave Jim a chance to shop for Blair. The young man needed everything he hadn’t been able to bring with him from Perchen: clothing and shoes suitable for aboard ship and for their destination, hygiene supplies, stuff for his hair and a personal comm device. Jim ordered most of it in advance so all he had to do while the _Panther_ was in spacedock was to collect and pay for it.

When he returned to the _Panther_ , the first thing he had to do was find out how much of his crew he had left. More than half of them were staying on the planet, including both Rafe and Henri. That hurt, even though Jim expected it. Joel was still aboard, though, as were Megan and Cassie. He reviewed the list and concluded he had enough people to fly safely. That was all that really mattered.

“Refuel complete in twelve seconds, Captain,” Joel reported as Jim walked onto the bridge.

Jim took his seat and pulled up the fuel guages. He was still watching the guage when Joel concluded.

“Fuel at capacity. Detaching the lines now.”

Jim touched his control panel. “Connor, spread the word. Anyone not aboard in the next ten minutes is staying here.”

“Roger wilco, Captain,” Megan answered instantly, “but the Doc told me to tell you she’s gone fishing.”

Jim laughed aloud. “Alright, for Cassie, fifteen minutes. Tell her to hurry.” Gone fishing, indeed. She was out looking for exotic food, but the phrasing of the message was meant as a bribe: her way of promising him a reward for his patience. Jim wouldn’t lift without Cassie.

“It’s gonna be a quiet trip,” Joel remarked.

“It will,” Jim agreed. “I’m glad you decided to stay. I didn’t expect it.”

Joel turned his workstation to automatic and turned toward him. “You can’t fly without me, Captain.”

“Is that a fact?” Jim asked with a wry grin.

“Oh, you or Connor can point her in the right direction,” Joel conceded. “But evasive flying? Captain, as long as that Blair is aboard, you need me. Or Rafe,” he added magnanimously. “He’s a hot pilot, too. But he was never going to miss a chance to see his kids.”

“No, I suppose he wouldn’t,” Jim agreed. Rafe’s leaving did feel like a betrayal, but that wasn’t fair to Rafe. He didn’t get home often. “Don’t you have anyone you wanted to see?” Jim asked. He knew that Joel wasn’t married, but he was sure he’d mentioned a partner or lover.

“No,” Joel said, in a tone that made it clear he wasn’t interested in sharing more details. “Not until I get paid.”

“I hear you,” Jim agreed, thinking of his own home. So much was riding on this job and it was becoming far too complicated.

Joel turned back to his workstation. “Fuel lines retracted, Captain. Initiating pre-flight systems check.” He read off each of the ship’s systems as the board in front of him filled with green lights, indicating the _Panther_ was ready for space. Then one of the lights turned amber.

“Uh, Captain, there’s a fluctuation in the plasma flow in the engine room. It’s probably nothing, but it needs an eyeball before we launch.”

Jim touched the comm for engineering, then realised Henri wasn’t there. “Did all our engineers jump ship?”

Joel’s expression answered him.

Jim shook his head. He should have insisted Henri stay. “I’ll go down there.”

“You, sir?”

“I fast-tracked to command from the engineering corps and I wouldn’t have bought this ship without knowing her systems. I can eyeball a plasma flow.” Jim headed for the door. “Bridge is yours, Taggert. Take us out at soon as everyone’s aboard.”

Joel’s voice followed him. “Keep your hand out of the plasma flow this time. Captain.”

*

The plasma flow was fine. Jim left the flow exposed while he crossed to the comm unit and punched for the bridge. “Joel, there’s just some charged particles in the conduit. The plasma is flowing just fine. Override the warning for launch. We’ll redirect the flow and and scrub the pipe once we’re underway.”

“Roger that. Board is green, Captain and the Doc is aboard. Your orders?”

“The course is laid in. Best speed, as soon as you can.”

“We’ve got clearance from the spaceport, Captain. Heading out now.”

As the comm cut out, Jim became aware of the changes in the _Panther_ as her engines engaged. There was a slight vibration in the deck beneath this feet and a hum in the air. The coruscating light of the plasma flow brightened and Jim moved to replace the cover plate. As he leaned over to slide the plate into place, the colours caught his attention again. This close to the engines, the plasma flow was both fast and intense. Violet chased shades of pink around a core of sparkling white. There were shades of blue, bright sparks of green and gold, and tiny flares of orange and scarlet. Jim couldn’t look away.

*

“Doctor, he’s coming out of it.”

Warm fingers stroked Jim’s skin just above his wrist, soothing and reassuring.

Jim felt as if he’d been drugged. His body was heavy, sluggish. His thoughts were slow. He tried to open his eyes but the room was so bright it hurt. He had a brief glimpse of someone sitting beside him before he squeezed his eyes closed again. Even through closed lids the light felt too bright and Jim tried to raise a hand to shield his sight.

“Lower the lights!” a male voice said and those warm fingers traced the shape of Jim’s cheek. “It’s okay, Jim. Open your eyes.”

Jim tried. The light was better and this time he opened his eyes all the way. It took a moment for the room to swim into focus.

He was in the _Panther’s_ medbay. The man at his side was Blair and Cassie stood behind him. Blair’s fingertips stroked Jim’s arm again and Jim instinctively pulled away from his touch.

“What happened?” Jim asked.

Blair and Cassie looked at each other.

“What happened?” he demanded. He tried to sit up. Cassie touched a control and the bed Jim lay on began to fold upward, bringing him to a sitting position.

It was Blair who answered him. “It’s called a sensory focus impairment. SFI. When a sentinel becomes too focussed – ”

Jim shook his head so sharply he felt something crack in his neck. “I’m not a sentinel!” he exploded.

“Jim.” Cassie’s tone was softly reproving.

Blair moved his chair back, putting distance between himself and Jim.

“What’s he doing here?” Jim asked Cassie.

“Captain, Megan found you in engineering nearly eight hours ago. No one could get you to respond.”

“Eight hours! No!”

“It’s true,” Cassie insisted calmly. “She and I carried you here so I could monitor your condition. When this happened to you in the galley you were out for less than an hour. This time you didn’t come out of it.”

“That doesn’t explain why _he_ is here,” Jim pressed.

“He’s here to help. I’ve been talking with Blair about a lot of things and I’ve learned about this bond between you. When we couldn’t wake you, I thought he might be able to use it to help. So I brought him here.”

Jim pulled his arm away from Blair’s touch.

Blair folded his hands in his lap. “I knew something was wrong before the Doctor came for me, because of our bond. I needed to touch you, skin to skin, to focus the bond. Then I could talk you back.”

Jim didn’t understand what that meant. If he’d been unconscious, what was talking supposed to achieve?

“Bonding is different for a sentinel – ” Blair went on.

“I’m _not_ – ”

“You’re wrong, Captain,” Cassie insisted. “I ran your DNA.”

Anger and fear flared and Jim turned his wrath on her. “You had no right!”

Cassie remained calm. “Let me show you.” She summoned a floating display screen. “I know it’s a big deal on Cascadion, Jim, but it makes no difference to me and I’m a doctor. Your secret is safe.” She turned the display on.

Jim saw two colourful charts, one above the other. Jim recognised his own genetic map because he had spent many hours studying it. He wasn’t a gentic expert, but he knew how to read his own DNA. He knew which markers he carried and which were missing. More importantly, he knew which genes were human...and which were not. The second chart, displayed above his own, was human. Fully human. Jim swallowed.

“Chimera!” Blair said suddenly.

Jim glared at him. Blair removed his hand from Jim’s arm. Cassie touched Blair’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Even before it was outlawed on Cascadion, this kind of gene manipulation wasn’t done without a good reason,” Cassie said.

Jim sighed. She wasn’t going to shut up until he admitted it. “It was Garrick syndrome. My mom knew she was a carrier. Dad didn’t.”

Cass nodded and studied the chart. “It looks like they found the problem and replaced the faulty genes _in utero_.”

“That’s right.”

“Looking at this, I’d say Garrick wasn’t the only genetic syndrome your parents had in common. They also both had elements of the sentinel genes.”

“Cass, I’m not a sentinel. My sharpened senses come from...” Jim broke off before he could admit to non-human genes. Cassie said it didn’t matter to her but it mattered to Jim. He couldn’t say it out loud.

“This,” Cassie indicated the top gene map, “is a sentinel genotype. Here are the key sectors.” As she spoke, the first gene map image changed, most of the map fading while six gene sequences brightened. A moment later, the same parts of Jim’s gene map brightened. It was immediately clear there was no match.

Jim shrugged. “I told you.”

“Yes, they appear to be incongruent,” Cassie agreed. “Until you do this...”

The bright sectors on Jim’s gene map faded and new sequences lit up.

Jim moved closer to the display. The highlighted sequences were a close match to the sentinel genes, but the locations were wrong. “I don’t understand,” he admitted.

“To use Blair’s word, you’re a chimera. The surgeons used what looks like feline sequences to replace what they excised to cure your Garrick syndrome. In doing that they shifted some of the healthy genes in your nuclear DNA. But all they changed was the locations, not the genes themselves. If you look at the mitochondrial DNA...” Again the gene map changed, highlighting sequences in comparison to the one above. “Do you see?”

Jim nodded. “I see. I think I do.” He knew the mitochondrial DNA was always inherited from the mother, never the father. The sentinel comparison of his mitochondrial DNA was a much closer match to the sentinel sample. So the other genes, the ones which had been displaced, probably came from his father. Without the genetic surgery, Jim would have been born a sentinel.

“You’ve always had unusual senses, haven’t you?” Cassie asked him.

“Yes, but not by sentinel standards.” Jim had been tested. Though the tests proved his senses were better than human-normal, he was nowhere close to being a sentinel. Not then, at least.

Cassie smiled gently. “Jim, are you aware that you’ve experienced an SFI twice since we’ve been talking?”

Jim stared at her. “No, I haven’t. Don’t be...”

“You have. I think you need to consider the possibility that this bonding with Blair has brought out your latent sentinel ability. If you continue to deny it the result could be fatal.”

Fatal.

Latent sentinel ability.

Jim swung his legs off the bed and stood, forcing Blair to get out of his way. He walked away a few paces.

Sentinels were human. Jim wasn’t fully human. That had been the core of him for a long time. It was his most closely-guarded secret and the reason his life was such a mess. What Cass showed him in his gene chart wasn’t completely new: he was aware that he had some of the sentinel markers. But it took more than that to make a sentinel. He wasn’t –

But he couldn’t go on like this. These seizures or whatever they were...that was dangerous. Jim sighed.

“How do I fix this? Will breaking the bond turn it off?”

Blair seemed to turn pale. “The bond can help. If you know anything about sentinels – ”

Jim interrupted quickly. “I know a sentinel/guide bond is symbiotic. But I also know many sentinels manage just fine alone. I asked if breaking the bond will fix this.”

Blair turned to the charts, frowning a little as he studied them. “You are unique, I think, so I suppose that if our bond is what woke up your senses, it’s possible breaking it will let them go back to latency. But honestly, Jim, I wouldn’t bet on it. I don’t think that’s how this works.”

“Convenient for you,” Jim said cynically.

“Not really. I know you hate the bond. We’ll find a way to break it. We will. But until then, it’s a fact. Let me use it to help you. I owe you that much.”

_Fine words_ , Jim thought, but he could feel Blair’s fear twisting through his insides. There was more, and Blair knew Jim wouldn’t like it.

“Help how?” Jim asked warily.

“Ash wasn’t a real sentinel, but he had some ability, like you. After we were bonded we were together almost every day. I never slept without him.”

“You were lovers. We’re not.” Jim spoke flatly, not even willing to entertain what he thought Blair was about to say.

“Every time you’ve zoned out today, my touch brought you back, Jim. The bond is strengthened by physical touch. Even more by sex.”

“There is no way I am having sex with you.”

“That’s the last thing I want, too,” Blair protested. “I said, touch.”

Cassie quietly moved away, leaving them alone to talk. The floating screen turned itself off and followed her.

Jim shook his head. “I can’t have you hanging around me all the time, Blair! I’m the captain of this ship. You would undermine my authority just by being there.”

“Then you need to get what you can from our bond while you’re not being captain. Maybe, uh, we should be together at night.”

“I just said – ”

“No sex. I heard you, man. But we could share a bed, maybe. I know it’s weird but...look, let’s just try it. If you don’t feel better, then I’m wrong and you can lock me up until we get to Tremainine.”

“You’re crazy.” Jim threw up his hands. This whole situation was insane!

“I’m a pathfinder, and you’re a sentinel,” Blair said calmly. “I’m trying to help.”

Jim frowned. “Alright. But it’ll be on my terms.”

*

Since they had lost Rafe, Jim assigned Cassie to guard Blair. Blair could remain with Cassie but if he wanted to be alone he had to return to the brig. Blair needed to send queries to Tremainine ahead of them asking if one of the academies had someone willing to help them.

In the meantime, Jim went back to work. He drew up a shift schedule for the remaining crew. They were so few that they would all be working in twelve hour shifts. He organised the schedule so shifts were changing every hour, meaning even during a shift-change there would be enough people on duty to keep the _Panther_ flying. Unfortunately it also meant some of them were going to see very little of each other until they reached Tremainine. He and Megan would have to work opposite shifts.

He also let the crew know that some of the usually strict rules about what could be done in on-duty time were relaxed as long as the work got done. You couldn’t expect people to be at their best for twelve hours straight. Following that principle himself, he took a break and opened the message he had been avoiding since it reached _Panther_ , two days before.

It was an AV message from home. From his wife, Carolyn.

Her lovely eyes met his from the tiny screen. “Hi, Jim. I hope this reaches you. I hope you’re okay and just running a bit late on the job. I’m sorry to do this with an AV. I really thought you’d be home in time, but it’s been so long since we heard from you.” She looked down, then back up. “Jim, I’m sending our proposed property settlement with this message. I think it’s fair, under the circumstances and it’s already been registered. You know the date our contract ends. I...I have to inform you that if you choose not to return before that date, this settlement will be endorsed by the court. I hope to see you before then.” She looked down again. “I guess that’s it, then. I’m sorry, again. See you soon.”

The message ended.

Jim looked for the settlement and found the file. He scrolled through it. Not what he would call a fair deal, but he could see why she thought so. If he didn’t get paid for this job, he would end up owing her a lot of money. Unless he was there, in person, to challenge this.

Damn. Now he had another problem to add to the list.

If he hurried back to Cascadion he might be able to come out of this with enough to pay off the debt on his ship. Except if he returned with a bond-mate in tow, he would lose. Either way he would lose, but Blair’s presence could cost him everything. He had to break this bond before he went home.

As his twelve hours ended, Jim rechecked all of the _Panther’s_ systems. The computer reminded him again about that plasma flow and he made a note to redirect it when he next came on-shift. Otherwise, everything seemed fine. The ship was on course and he saw no sign of pursuit. There were other ships in sensor range, but they were on a trade route – other ships were to be expected.

He handed over to Megan, then headed to the galley where he found Cassie and Blair serving food to others as their work shifts ended. She had been experimenting with Perchen food but the meal she offered to Jim was more Perchen-flavoured than Perchen-style. There was too much liquid in it to be served at an authentic Perchen table. Each plate contained a large oval of unleavened bread, topped with heavily spiced, chunky vegetables and a rich red sauce. Cass had added a yoghurt-based sauce on the side to take some of the heat out of the spices. Jim admitted it was good, though even with the yoghurt he found it eye-wateringly spicy. He drank dark beer with it and that took the edge off.

Then it was time to retire to his quarters. He had already decided that if he was going to do this thing, he would not allow it to become a huge thing. So after thanking Cassie for the meal, he simply glanced at Blair and asked casually, “Are you ready?”

 


	8. En Route to Tremainine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone watching this story: I am _so_ sorry for having left it so long without an update. I just re-read the last chapter and boy was that a bad place to leave it! Here's the next chapter.

Captain Ellison wanted Blair to fear him; that much Blair understood. The captain was also very afraid of what his senses were doing to him. That frightened him enough to let Blair into his cabin when he was vulnerable. It was up to Blair to prove worthy of that trust, but the captain didn’t make it easy to connect with him.

When they reached his cabin the captain let Blair enter ahead of him. The cabin was no larger than the brig: a simple, sparsely decorated room. There were none of the extra luxuries that would have told Blair this was the captain’s cabin. There were personal touches, but not many.

“If you’re going to sleep here,” the captain said, “you’ve got to take a shower first. You stink.”

That wasn’t fair! There was nothing in the brig Blair could use to clean himself. He wasn’t even sure what to use. They were in space; surely water was harder to come by here than it was on Perchen. “I didn’t want to waste the water,” he tried to explain, “and there’s no sand.”

The captain looked at him like he was speaking some other language. “Have you never travelled interstellar?”

“Not since I was little.” Blair hadn’t been allowed to leave Perchen. Surely the captain knew that. This was, after all, the reason he had been sent to bring Blair out.

The captain smiled, a little indulgently. “A starship is a closed system. As long as we’re in space every molecule is recycled by the ship’s systems. The big starliners have hydroponics bays and they’ll end a voyage with more water than they start with. But the Panther just keeps us steady. You can’t ‘waste’ water.”

He touched the wall and what Blair had taken to be a part of the wall began to move. It opened to reveal a small space with a toilet. The captain touched another control and the toilet disappeared into the wall. What was left was apparently an empty cubicle with controls on the wall.

The captain pointed to the control panel. “This turns the water on and off. This controls the water temperature. Stand under the water until you’re wet all over. Then turn the water off and use the soap. That’s here.” He tapped a panel, which popped open, revealing several bottles. “Don’t skip your hair. Then turn the water back on to get clean. When you’re done, turn the air on here. That’ll get you mostly dry. If you’re using too much water the system will alert you, so don’t worry about waste until you get that warning. Even if you do use too much, it only means the system will take a bit longer to recycle what you’ve used.”

Blair looked at the controls. Water. Heat. Soap. Air. He was really expected to clean himself with water. It seemed a ridiculous indulgence.

“Okay?” the captain asked.

Blair nodded. “Sure. Okay.”

“I’ll leave something for you to wear.”

Blair stepped into the cubicle and it closed behind him. He looked at the panel and touched the control for water. Immediately it started to rain on him from the ceiling. He gasped and shut it off. He was probably supposed to undress first.

Blair folded his clothing carefully and left it beside the door, not sure if there was anywhere in here where it would stay dry. He looked up at the ceiling and discovered where the water came from. He remembered enough from his childhood to know that’s where he was supposed to stand. He turned the water on again.

This time the shower didn’t make him gasp. The water was hot, which was unexpected, but he found he liked it. He stood under the spray as instructed, turning to make sure all of his body was wet. Then he turned the water off and looked at the bottles the captain had identified as ‘soap’. Blair opened one and tipped a little of the liquid into his hand. It poured thickly, like treacle and he didn’t recognise the scent at all. But he rubbed it on his wet skin and it turned into a thick, white foam.

This was fun! Blair smiled and rubbed more of the soap onto himself. When he reached his hair, there was even more foam. It slid down his body in long streaks and filled the air around him with a light, pleasant scent.

It felt good to be clean and Blair made sure he got the soap everywhere. He even tried to get it between his toes but then he found the floor was too slippery to stand on. He turned the water back on and, feeling very daring, touched the temperature control. The rain became hotter and the room filled with steam. It felt amazing.

He raised his hands to his hair to rinse the foam out of it. The hot water fell onto his skin and ran down his body in warm rivulets. He loved the feeling.

But years of conserving every single drop of water were not shrugged aside so easily. This was an incredible, expensive treat, and he couldn’t indulge in it for longer than necessary. Foam collected around his feet and he watched it drain away. When there was no more foam, he turned the water off, and ran his hands through his long hair to wring some of the water out.

He was still very wet, but the captain had said the air would dry him. He turned on the last control and squealed in surprise as a warm wind buffeted him on all sides. It was strong enough to raise his wet hair from his shoulders. Blair turned around, enjoying the sensation. As promised, his body was soon dry. His hair took longer. There was no mirror in the cubicle, but Blair suspected his hair was turning into a wild cloud around his head. He tried to comb it with his fingers as it dried, but that didn’t really help much. When it seemed almost dry, Blair turned the air off. He was as clean as he could manage and he hoped it would be good enough for the sentinel.

When the cubicle door opened, Blair found his way out blocked by a hanging robe. He assumed the Captain meant it for him so he pulled the robe down and backed into the cubicle again to put it on. It was a simple robe, the material light and silky. When he pulled it over his head it fell to past his knees. He tried to leave the cubicle for a second time; this time the exit was unobstructed.

“Thanks for the robe, Captain,” Blair said hesitantly.

The captain was wearing a similar robe; he was sitting on the bunk. “You’re going to share my bed. You can call me Jim. I didn’t notice you having trouble with my name earlier.”

“The doctor said using your first name would help. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“Come here, then, if you still want to.”

It wasn’t exactly an inviting prospect. Blair took a few steps toward the bunk. “Jim, I don’t want this bond any more than you do. But I do want to help you. I know I haven’t earned it but please try to trust me.”

When the capt- when _Jim_ looked up, he seemed extremely weary. “Come to bed. I’m tired.” The words were toneless. Jim got into the bunk, leaving room for Blair.

Blair slid into the bed beside him.

Sleep did not come easily. At first, it was difficult to get comfortable. Jim’s bunk, though large enough for both of them wasn’t really designed to sleep two. Physical closeness was the point, but it was still awkward.

After some time, they found a way to lie together that seemed to work, with Blair closest to the wall and Jim lying on his side, curled around Blair’s smaller body. Blair was able to relax and let his mind drift, but still sleep wouldn’t come.

It seemed Jim felt the same because after a while he sighed. “This is ridiculous. Can we talk for a while?”

Blair opened his eyes. “Sure. What about?”

“I don’t know. Anything. How did you come to bond with Ash?”

That didn’t seem like an _anything_ question. Blair answered uneasily, “That’s not exactly a bedtime story.”

“I’d like to hear it,” Jim said softly.

Well, he wasn’t going to sleep. He might as well talk. But he couldn’t start with Ash. What happened with Ash was only part of it.

Blair took a deep breath. In the dark cabin, he couldn’t see Jim’s eyes, just dark shadows.

“You know I was ten when I came to Perchen,” Blair began.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know, then, that I’m a pathfinder. It was a couple of years after. With sentinels, it can show at any age, but pathfinders come into their ability at puberty. When they...the Archon...found out, he was pleased. He had plans for me, and me being a pathfinder meant I was more valuable. But he said I had to be...educated first. I thought he meant teaching. Training.”

“He didn’t?”

“He, uh, sold my virginity,” Blair admitted, and he felt Jim’s whole body tense as the other man understood.

“He what?” Something new in Jim’s tone now, something dark.

Blair had to keep talking now. “Yeah, it was exactly what you’re thinking. It’s a tradition on Perchen. A lot of kids do it, but it’s supposed to be their choice, and they profit from it. It wasn’t that way for me. Some old bastard paid to be first to fuck me. I don’t know how much, but they told me it was a lot. I didn’t have a choice. If I wouldn’t co-operate, they were going to hold me down.” Blair shuddered, remembering.

_The rough hands of the guard who shoved him against the wall. The sour smell of the man’s breath in Blair’s face. If Blair wanted to fight, the guard told him, he could fight. But he would lose. He had been paid for and if necessary the guards would hold him down or chain him down to make sure he delivered._

_The hand tightened around Blair’s throat. “And if you make us do that, boy, when he’s done we’ll all get a share. You understand me?”_

_Blair was so scared he was seconds away from pissing himself. He had seen what the guards could do._

“Blair...”

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” Blair insisted, pulling his thoughts back to the present. “It wasn’t that bad.” And it hadn’t been, compared to the alternative. He hated every moment of it, but being given to the guards would have been worse.

“Anyway, after that night, they brought Ash to me. I’d been taught about bonding, how it was supposed to work, but I wasn’t ready. They didn’t care. I was ordered to create a bond with him. We had no choice.”

“So he wasn’t willing, either?”

“He was...sort of. Ash had been promised things and he was an orphan. But he didn’t understand what he was agreeing to. Neither of us did.”

“I know they used him to punish you.”

Blair shook his head. “Man, you don’t know half of it. After we bonded, they left us alone for a while. We got to be together. We were teenagers. It was intense, and that’s what they wanted. When we were deeply bonded, I found out the real reason they wanted me. Yeah, they used Ash. A lot.”

“What did they want?” Jim sounded honestly curious.

“Haven’t you figured that out yet?” Blair snorted. “I was the Archon’s whore, Jim. In public, I was a favoured guest. I had to be entertaining and kiss his friends’ asses at social functions. Which would be fine until someone liked me too much or tried to, you know, grope me or something. Then there would be a discreet hint that my company was available in private for the right price, or the right favour. I was bought and sold. If I didn’t like the buyer, if I said no, Ash was tortured. If I did as I was told and they didn’t think they got their money’s worth, Ash was tortured. If I was late or sick or said the wrong thing... Because we were bonded, I felt everything they did to him. I knew it was my fault. Sometimes they hurt Ash while I was...with someone. If I let it show, they’d hurt him worse.”

Blair stopped talking. He’d said much more than he meant to and he could feel Jim’s disgust and anger...and his pity. He didn’t want that.

Suddenly being in bed with Jim felt all wrong. It wasn’t bad-wrong. He wasn’t afraid of Jim. But Jim only needed to shift a little to hold Blair, and yet he wasn’t moving. He wouldn’t move, Blair knew. He wouldn’t offer comfort or help or anything like that. Which was fucking weird when they were in bed together.

Jim drew in a breath. “You never have to go back there,” he said firmly.

Blair’s eyes felt hot and itchy. “They’ll come after me, Jim. They’re gonna find me.”

“Probably,” he agreed, “but they won’t take you back there. Go to sleep now.”

*

In the morning, Blair didn’t need to ask if Jim felt better. It was as if he was a different person. Blair woke as Jim left the bunk. All he saw of Jim was his back as he disappeared into the shower cubicle, but even that much was enough. Jim was more relaxed. The tension across his neck and shoulders was gone.

Blair smiled to himself as he heard the shower start up and remembered his own experience in there. Using water to get clean was an unimaginable luxury. It felt really great. And he’d left his clothes in there! Oh, man...

There was a chime from the door and it opened to reveal Doctor Cassie. She smiled and walked in with something draped over her arm.

“The captain asked me to come by with a change of clothing for you.” She offered her arm, and Blair recognised one of the simple suits that passed for standard wear aboard the _Panther_. “Do you remember the way to the medbay?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah. I think so.” Blair took the clothing.

“I expect to see you there after you’ve eaten breakfast. It’s your turn for a full medical.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Blair started to protest.

“That’s not quite true, Blair. You lived on Perchen for a long time and your body adapted, but not as well as those born there. Now you need to adapt again to a more water-rich environment.”

“Jim said something about that. Upping my water intake slowly.”

Cassie smiled. “You mean he actually listened to something I said? Miracles do happen, I guess.” She wiped the smile away and looked stern. “Medbay, Blair. As soon as you can.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

*

The next night Jim offered Blair a drink before bed. Blair thanked him but refused the offer, explaining that Doctor Cassie told him to be careful how much he drank.

Jim was drinking a tea that smelled like flowers.

Blair sat with him, still unsure what to make of this man. Last night, he seemed genuinely disturbed by Blair’s story. Jim didn’t seem like a monster, but what else could he be? Millions of people died on Eyann, and Captain Ellison ordered their deaths. Every time Blair started to like him, he thought about Eyann. There must be a mistake somewhere. Jim couldn’t have done it.

Jim set his mug down. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Blair answered without thinking.

“You’re fidgeting like you’ve got fleas and you keep breathing like you’re about to say something. So spit it out.”

Blair met his eyes. He seemed serious, so Blair forced the words out. “What really happened at Eyann?”

Jim’s expression darkened. He sipped his tea then set the mug down again. “You shared something very private with me last night,” he said. “I owe you some kind of _quid pro quo_ so I’m willing to answer some questions. But not that one. I can’t talk about what happened on Eyann. It’s a condition of my pardon.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologise for being curious about it. Just ask a different question.”

Blair wasn’t prepared for an interview. He dropped his gaze to the table between them and caught sight of the ring on Jim’s finger. He hadn’t worn it on Perchen.

“Is Commander Connor your wife?” he asked.

Jim’s eyes flew open. “Megan? No!” He smiled wryly. “Connor is my closest friend and we’re occasional lovers. My _wife_ lives on Cascadion.”

“You’re married, but you have sex with someone else?”

Jim shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “This bothers you?”

“I’m not judging, man. The rules are different on other planets, I know that. I’m just...wondering what your rules are.”

Jim drank more tea while he organised his thoughts. “There are three kinds of marriage on Cascadion. What we call a traditional marriage is a lifetime commitment between two people and in a traditional marriage the partners are supposed to be faithful to each other. Poly marriages are more common and that’s more complicated. In a poly group three or more people form a family and the family is intended to last. But individual people can join or leave the marriage and rules about sex are more liberal. The third kind of marriage is what I have with Carolyn. It’s a time-limited contract. Some couples use a term contract to test their relationship before going into traditional marriage. Others...well, you can write the contract any way you want.”

“So...” Blair frowned, trying to understand, “you are _temporarily_ married? It just automatically ends at some point?”

“Carolyn’s father is an admiral of the Cascadion star fleet. We met at a fleet function and we enjoyed each other’s company, but our marriage is a business arrangement. It’s not a love match. I got a promotion to Captain out of it...but I haven’t exactly delivered on my side of the bargain.”

“Because of Eyann,” Blair guessed.

“Yeah. She married a star fleet Captain, not the ‘Butcher of Eyann’. Our contract expires soon. It has a renewal clause but we don’t have children. There’s no reason to renew it.”

“You don’t seem happy about that.”

“I’m not. And frankly, you made a mess of it for me.”

“Me?”

“This job – getting you back to Avaline – was going to pay off my debt on the _Panther_. With that paid off, I could claim I brought equal property into the marriage and come out of the contract with some assets. If I go back without that payment, I might lose everything.”

“And you can’t back because of me?”

“It’s not just the payment. Me having sex with Megan doesn’t violate my marriage contract. That only requires me to be faithful to Carolyn while we’re both on Cascadion. When I’m away she can do as she pleases and so can I. But I am not free to make any kind of personal commitment to anyone else.” He looked at Blair.

“Our bond,” Blair realised.

“Our bond,” Jim confirmed. “It doesn’t matter that I didn’t choose this. It breaches the terms of my contract.”

“So, what happens if we can’t break the bond? I mean, you just said your marriage is ending anyway, so...?”

“Why am I telling you this?”

The question seemed rhetorical but Blair answered seriously, “I don’t think being bonded can make you act against your own character. Maybe you just need to talk and I’m convenient.”

Jim snorted. “Not the word I’d pick.”

“You don’t _have_ to tell me anything. But it seems like this does affect me, Jim, at least until we can break the bond. I’d like to know.”

Jim shrugged. “If I break the contract, Carolyn can claim all community property. Which means everything I own, except the _Panther_. Even the _Panther_ , unless I clear the debt first.”

“That will be my fault.” Blair knew he was stating the obvious but he was stricken by this. As if he didn’t feel guilty enough!

Jim made an irritated sound. “You know I feel that, don’t you? Cut it out. It’s not your fault I haven’t paid my debts. I could have cleared it a year ago if I was less picky about the jobs we took. But the bonding thing – yeah, that’s on you.”

Blair managed a weak smile. “Thanks. I think.”

*

**Two days from Tremainine**

The meal that night was something Cassie called meze – lots of cold dishes laid out on a long table for the crew to help themselves. You could fill your plate from one or two dishes, or take little samples of everything. There were slices of spiced meat, cheeses, toasted bread with olive oil, stuffed tomatoes, vegetable dumplings, chips and much more. Blair watched Jim help himself to various dishes before he picked up a plate and started to select his own. They sat down together and ate in silence for a few minutes.

“Have you found an academy for us to go to once we reach Tremainine?” Jim asked after a while.

The question seemed casual, but Blair knew it was becoming urgent. They would be in Tremainine’s orbit soon. “The three most prominent academies all said the same thing: they can’t help us.”

Jim’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Can’t or won’t?”

“Tremainine is a highly spiritual culture, Jim. Most of them won’t be happy about doing something that could cause us harm.”

“Are you sure that’s why?”

Blair ignored the question. “There’s one place I haven’t heard from yet. Khyme. I think that’s our best shot.”

“Our only shot, by the sound of it,” Jim groused.

“I knew the academies would say no, but I had to try there first. There’s a certain way of doing things on Tremainine. Once the academies said no, I was free to try elsewhere.”

“How do you know so much?”

“I met a lot of envoys from a lot of different planets. I had to know about their cultures.” Blair saw Jim’s expression and added quickly, “No, not like that. I met them at table, social functions. Not everyone I entertained wanted more. The Tremainine envoys were good people. I learned a lot from them.”

Jim frowned. “Blair, when you contacted these places, what names have you been giving them?”

“I’ve only given mine.”

“What name are you using?”

“Sand.”

When away from their home planet, most people adopted a name that reflected their home planet in place of the family or cartel name they used at home. If you came from a prominent family, or were representing a cartel, you added the planet name. By giving the name Sand, Blair declared himself a person of no importance, from Perchen.

“You’ll have to give them my name at some point,” Jim said. “If they’re such a principled people, they won’t help us when they know who I am.”

_Eyann._ Blair could almost hear Jim’s bitter thought. Good people don’t help mass murderers. What happened on Eyann that was so bad Jim was willing to keep it secret and let everyone believe he slaughtered those people? Whatever had happened, Blair was sure Jim wasn’t really a murderer.

“That’s one reason I think Khyme is our best shot. It’s not an academy, but they do train sentinels and pathfinders.”

“If it’s not an academy, what is it?”

They’re a spiritual order. They believe in helping anyone in need.”

Jim’s lip curled. “Monks?” he asked contemptuously.

Blair hadn’t realised that would be an issue. “In a way,” he answered nervously.

“Monks. Wonderful.”

 


	9. Tremainine (1)

Tremainine was a water-rich planet, like Cascadion, but Tremainine was blue where Cascadion was green. It was a world of mountains and glaciers, lakes and oceans. Some quirk in the terraforming here made the lowlands unusually inhospitable, and since the planet’s population was relatively small almost everyone lived at high altitude.

These were the facts Blair knew about the planet, but he hadn’t fully realised that high altitude and glaciers meant _cold_. Acclimated as he was to the heat of Perchen, he found Tremainine unbearable. From the shuttle, it had seemed so promising. Jim, piloting, took them over a city of shining towers at the edge of a lake so impossibly blue Blair could barely believe it was real. Khyme was built on the mountain on the other side of the lake. Blair saw buildings dotted among snow-caked trees and they were built to look like trees: tall and conical. Above the settlement was Khyme’s shuttle-port.

It was when they left the shuttle that Blair realised this was going to be painfully cold.

The woman who met them wore a full-length cloak: thick, black material lined with what looked like fur. Blair had thought he was dressed for a cooler climate, but he’d never considered he’d need something like that. She made an initial identity check by confirming the shuttle came from the _Panther_ , then asked for their names. Blair gave his name as Blair Sand but Jim had decided not to conceal his identity because it would backfire badly if they found out later. Blair gave Jim’s name as Jim Ellison-Greenfall. Greenfall indicated he was from Cascadion, but it wasn’t a name he had used before. It was a reasonable compromise.

The woman asked them to follow her. She led them out of the shuttle-port and Blair felt like he hit a wall of ice. When he drew a breath it seemed to chill his whole chest and when he breathed out he could have sworn the moisture in his breath turned into snow. He hugged himself and rubbed at his arms. It didn’t help.

Jim moved closer to him. “Are you okay? I didn’t realise it would be this cold.”

“C-c-cold? I’m wa-ay p-past c-cold.” He could barely get the words out past his shivering.

Jim slid an arm around Blair’s shoulders. “We won’t be outside for long. Lean on me.”

Blair did so gratefully, but although the heat of Jim’s body was nice, it didn’t do much to warm him. He turned his face into Jim’s warmth and let Jim guide his steps. Walking like that, Blair saw very little of the settlement on their journey from the shuttle-port to Khyme.

The entrance to Khyme was a spectacular series of archways. The first and largest was easily six times Blair’s height and about two thirds as wide. Within it was another, a little smaller, and within that another and another until the final arch was just large enough for Jim to walk through comfortably. As they approached, the two smallest arches split open and retracted into the wall, leaving an opening wide enough for the three of them to pass.

On the other side of the archway, a short corridor opened into a large, brightly lit atrium. The roof of the atrium, high above their heads, was clear crystal or perhaps glass and it seemed to take in the daylight from outside and enhance it, so everything inside was well lit. In the centre of the atrium was a pool with a bubbling fountain, water flowers and colourful fish. Around this centrepiece a white stone pathway wound in an ever-widening spiral, surrounded by grass and a carpet of more flowers. The outer wall held a series of alcoves, each containing a living creature. Blair recognised some of them: a wolf, a lemur, a raccoon and a cat, but others he had never seen before and some alcoves appeared to be empty. Only a few of them had any visible barrier between the creature within and the atrium; most seemed open, but the creatures remained inside, apparently content. Above the alcoves, vines grew in long, tangled columns toward the roof.

It was warmer in the atrium, and Blair moved away from Jim.

Their guide turned to face them. “Please, enjoy the garden while you wait. The Shaman will greet you shortly.”

“Thanks,” Jim said.

Blair gaped as he stared at the atrium around them. He knew he looked like his eyes were bugging out of his head but he couldn’t seem to stop. He had never seen anything like this. He walked toward the alcoves, curious how the animals were kept inside. He saw controls on each that appeared to be for a barrier or perhaps a containment field, but none of them seemed to be on. He stopped at the wolf. It gazed at him with golden eyes and then moved toward the alcove opening. It didn’t step out of the alcove, but its head emerged and it looked up at Blair, its mouth slightly open. Blair almost thought it was smiling.

“He feels a connection with you,” a soft voice said, making Blair jump.

He looked up to see the dark eyes of an older man smiling at him.

“Many of our students discover an affinity with one of our animal friends. Perhaps this is yours.” He held his hands in front of him as if holding an invisible ball. “I am the Shaman of Khyme. You are Blair?”

Blair felt nervous suddenly. “Uh...yeah. I’m Blair.” He gestured toward Jim, who was striding toward them. “This is Jim.”

The Shaman waited for Jim to reach them. “You are bonded, and have come to discover if this can be undone,” he said. It didn’t quite sound like a question.

“That’s correct,” Jim agreed.

“You are welcome to stay here, free of obligation, for three days and nights,” the Shaman said. “If your business requires a longer stay, you will be expected to pay or to contribute by working here. There is lodging available in the village, if you prefer it.”

Jim nodded. “That’s generous. I’ll gladly work in exchange.”

“Me, too,” Blair agreed.

“We ask that while you are here you eat no meat or flesh of any kind. If you have unusual nutritional needs we will try to accommodate them, but otherwise we prefer that no animal dies to feed you. Again, the village is an alternative if this is not acceptable.”

Blair nodded. “That’s fine with me. Jim?”

Jim looked less certain, but he nodded. “Sure. I can live with that.”

The Shaman smiles. “Then come with me. We will talk while your rooms are made ready, then we can begin our work.”

“Rooms?” Jim repeated. “We’ve been sharing a cabin.”

“If your goal is to undo the bond between you, that must stop.” The Shaman gestured toward an exit. “Please.”

*

“This will be your room while you are with us,” the Shaman stopped before a blue door. “It can be locked from inside if you want to be certain of privacy, but no one will enter without your invitation.”

“Thank you.” Blair reached for the door, but it felt like the Shaman had more to say. “Would you like to come in?” he offered.

“I would. There are some things you must understand.”

Blair touched the panel which opened the door. He gasped as it slid open. The view was so beautiful!

They had given him a room with a view of the impossibly blue lake. The window was a floor-to-ceiling arch and Blair walked to it. He barely noticed the room. “It’s incredible,” he whispered.

“Blair.”

He turned around. “I’m sorry, Shaman. Please come in. I’m listening.”

The Shaman was Blair’s height – small, for a man – but he had a quiet dignity that Blair doubted he would ever match. His skin was naturally bronzed, his thinning hair straight and very long. He wore a simple robe of undyed linen and his shoes were made of something so soft his feet made no sound as he walked. He stepped into the room and moved toward Blair. The door slid closed behind him.

“There are few crimes more despised on Tremainine than forced bonding, Blair. It happened on another planet so no one can prosecute you for it here. Even so, I must caution you against discussing what happened with anyone but me.”

Blair swallowed. “I understand. But...” the words just tumbled out, “please, whatever you think of me, you’ve got to help Jim. He never wanted this, but I’m afraid breaking the bond might hurt him. He’s a sentinel and...” The Shaman’s raised hand cut off his words.

“I will speak with Jim today, and with you in the morning. After this, I will know if there is a way to undo what was done. You, Blair, are a guide in need of training. You will have an opportunity to prove yourself worthy of what Khyme can offer.”

Real pathfinder training. Training he could trust that would allow him to use his abilities to help people, not just whore for someone else’s profit. It was everything Blair wanted, and Khyme was where he wanted to be. He didn’t like the cold, but the philosophy here, and the joy of living near water...that would be amazing.

And he knew he couldn’t do it.

As soon as the bond was broken, he had to let Jim deliver him to Avaline, so Jim could get paid and straighten out his business at home. Blair didn’t know why the Avaline cartel wanted him, but he didn’t think letting him live on Tremainine would fit their plans for him.

He tried to smile for the Shaman. “I’m grateful, thank you.”

“Then I will see you tomorrow.” The Shaman turned to leave.

“Wait, when can I see Jim? You want us sleeping apart, that’s okay, I get it. But we started sharing a bed because being apart was hurting him.”

The Shaman turned back. “You can see each other whenever you wish. He will be at meals, and you can meet in the common areas. Just don’t go to his room, or invite him to yours. You are not prisoners, Blair. You are guests.”

*

Blair’s room was a little larger than Jim’s cabin aboard the _Panther_ , and like the cabin it had its own wash cubicle. There was a small closet in which Blair packed the clothing he’d brought with him. The room was cool, but not cold and he decided he would be fine as long as he wore his warmest clothes and never, ever opened the window.

Until it was time for the evening meal, Blair set out to explore Khyme. He had been told which areas were open for guests, but also that he could go anywhere not marked as private or restricted. Those signs were subtle, but easy to find. He came across the library and spent a happy hour browsing the titles and planning what he would return to read if he had time. But as much as he loved the library, his thoughts were drawn back to the atrium with its fountain. He decided to go back there.

The atrium had been empty of people when he and Jim were there before, but now there were others. A young girl was kneeling in front of one of the alcoves, feeding the brightly coloured bird within it. She held seeds in a gloved palm and the bird stabbed at them with its sharp beak. It didn’t appear to hurt her; she was smiling delightedly. An older woman in a shaman’s robe walked slowly in circles around the atrium. After a moment, Blair realised she was following the spiral pathway. A kind of meditation? He would have to find out.

The fountain and pool in the middle of the atrium was at ground level, so there was no ledge or bench to sit upon. Blair walked around it and, since he saw nothing to indicate he couldn’t, sat down on the grass close to the water’s edge. Light from above sparkled on the surface of the water. Occasionally one of the fish broke the surface, creating more sparkles. When he closed his eyes he could still see the light dancing. He settled into a comfortable position and concentrated on his breathing, slow, steady and deep.

The weeks since he escaped Perchen had been emotionally draining. It took him a while to clear his mind. When he did, when he saw nothing but the dancing light, he found his stomach twisting with some emotion that wasn’t his own. It was Jim.

He didn’t try to push it away, but simply allowed himself to sink deeper into it. His bond with Jim wasn’t the same as the one he had with Ash. He shared mostly physical sensations with Ash, rarely emotion. This was somewhere between the two. Jim wasn’t hurting or in danger, but something was making him very uncomfortable.

Jim was seated, his hands rubbing the arms of the chair. It felt warm and smooth beneath his hands. A draught from somewhere played around his ankles. He was speaking.

He must be with the Shaman, Blair thought. That explained the discomfort. He would be telling the Shaman about their bonding. Blair couldn’t hear or sense the words, but as soon as he realised what was happening he was almost there in the room with them. If he closed his eyes, he saw coloured geometric shapes. When he drew in breath through his nose, he caught faint scents of sage, sandalwood and vanilla. He felt a strange itch in his shoulder and, a moment later, felt Jim scratch it.

Jim would hate that Blair was tuned into him so completely. Blair opened his eyes and slowly stretched his legs out, then stood, feeling a little wobbly. As soon as he was standing, the connection faded.

He was _cold_. Sitting for so long without moving had chilled his body and he needed to move, to get his heart pumping again. He followed the path from the fountain in spirals around and around until he reached the ring of alcoves. By the time he got there, the exercise had warmed him somewhat. He slowed his pace, studying the animals as he passed. Only a few were held behind a tangible screen and Blair finally realised that these were the creatures deemed most dangerous: poisonous snakes, an ugly thing that looked like a cross between a leopard and a dog, a giant spider and a couple of reptiles Blair couldn’t identify. But wasn’t the wolf dangerous? Or that huge black cat?

The wolf was a beautiful animal, dangerous or not. Its fur was grey, paler on its underside and darker around its golden eyes. When it looked at Blair, he thought it was laughing at him.

“You really do love that wolf, don’t you?”

Blair jumped at Jim’s voice. “Don’t scare me like that, man!”

“Sorry. I thought you saw me.” Jim looked at him with narrowed eyes. “You need some warmer clothing, don’t you? You’re not used to this climate.”

Blair shrugged. “I’m warm enough.”

“No, you’re not. I don’t think there’s time now, but tomorrow we’ll go into the village and see what we can buy for you.”

“I thought you...” Blair stopped before he could blurt out something he shouldn’t.

“You thought I was broke? I am, but I can stretch to something to keep you from freezing us both to death.” He paused then added, “Don’t wear just one layer of clothing. If you’re cold, you’ll find several layers of thin fabric are warmer than one thick layer.”

“Thanks.” Blair smiled, but he hadn’t missed Jim’s point: he could feel, through their bond, that Blair was cold. He obviously didn’t like it. “So, how was your talk with the Shaman?”

Jim made a face. “Tough. He made me tell him what happened over and over. He’s going to test me for Sentinel ability, too. I told him I’ve already been tested, but he wants to do it over.”

Blair nodded. It made sense. The Shaman could tell Jim was a sentinel without the tests, but a test would prove it for Jim. Jim needed to believe what he was.

“I’m going to check in with the _Panther_ , then get some sleep. Is there anything you need from the ship?”

The offer was polite fiction; Blair had no possessions. He shrugged. “No, there’s nothing.” He thought he should send a message to his friend, Cassie, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. “I guess I’ll see you at breakfast, then.”

“I’ll be there,” Jim agreed, and headed toward the exit.

*

Blair wasn’t sure he would sleep well alone. He stripped off his clothing and put it away. The room was cool, but not cold. He climbed into the narrow bed and as his body warmed the sheets around him he fell into a deep sleep.

When Blair woke the next morning, the room had gone from cool to _cold_ overnight. he remembered Jim’s advice about clothing: lots of layers would be warmer than thick clothing. The bed was warm and he wanted to stay there, but he forced himself to get up and examined the small amount of clothing he owned. He decided that, if lots of layers meant warmth, he’d better wear everything. Underwear. Short pants and a thin t-shirt. Then two soft shirts and long pants. Two pairs of socks under his shoes. A jacket. His hair combed and worn loose about his shoulders to provide an extra layer. Even then, he felt chilled, but maybe it would be enough.

Breakfast was served in the same communal dining hall as the evening meal the night before. At the evening meal, there had been choices; breakfast was the same for everyone. Blair was given a bowl of fruit and nuts topped with a thick, white liquid and a hot herbal drink. The tastes were unfamiliar but there was so much juice in the fruit that Blair loved it. Sweet flavour burst on his tongue with every mouthful. The nuts were lightly toasted and the topping just slightly sour, making the combination of tastes just perfect. The tea was hot, which seemed weird but was very welcome. He still felt cold. Blair ate slowly, savouring it.

Jim sat down opposite him just as Blair was finishing his food. He was a little flushed, and Blair wondered if he had been outside. Was that why he, Blair, felt so cold? Because Jim was?

“Hi. Did you sleep okay?” Blair asked casually.

Jim took a bite of his breakfast before he answered. “I’m good. Cass says hello.”

Blair smiled. “Thanks.”

“It’s your turn to talk to the shaman this morning,” Jim reminded him, “then he’ll see us together after. I’m going to take a walk to the village. Is there anything you need besides warm clothing?”

The offer took Blair by surprise. “No, there’s nothing I need. You don’t need to buy clothes for me, Jim. We won’t be here long and – ”

Jim gave him a sharp look. “You’re wearing everything you own and you’re still cold. What are you gonna do when your clothes get dirty?”

“Stink, I guess,” Blair admitted ruefully. He shrugged, “Or freeze.”

Jim laughed softly. “Well, at least that’s honest. Blair, after today we should know how long we’ll have to stay here. I’ll wait until we know if you want, but you need to stay warm.”

Impulsively, Blair reached across the table. “Thanks for worrying about me.” His fingers touched Jim’s hand and it was like a sudden flare of warmth inside. Suddenly, Blair was no longer shivering. He saw Jim’s eyes widen and a moment later Jim silently opened his hand and turned it palm up. Blair slid his own hand into Jim’s.

“That helps,” Jim said.

“Yeah,” Blair agreed.

“Should it?”

“I don’t know.”

Jim squeezed his hand and picked up his spoon with his free hand. Blair, warmed by the touch, said nothing more. He sipped his warm tea while Jim ate.

“Are you Blair Sand?” The speaker was a young man in a green shaman’s robe. The colours were indicators of rank or status, Blair knew, but he hadn’t sorted them out yet. Judging by this man’s youth, green probably meant an apprentice.

“I’m Blair,” he agreed, surprised.

“I’m Tomlii. I’m supposed to take you to the shaman, if you’re ready.”

Reluctantly, Blair slid his hand from Jim’s grasp. “I’m ready now. Jim, I’ll see you later. Say hi to Cassie for me if you talk to the _Panther_.”

Jim gave a quick smile. “I will.”

*

Tomlii led Blair through a door that marked the area beyond as restricted for visitors. Jim had been interviewed in the Shaman’s room in the public area; apparently he wanted to see Blair somewhere different.

“We’re not going to the office?” Blair asked.

“No, to the pathfinder’s garden,” Tomlii answered.

Blair caught the hint. “You’re a pathfinder, too?”

Tomlii stroked the front of his green robe. “I’m still a student. I can work with sentinels but only with my mentor. Next year I should qualify to work alone.” He hesitated, then added, “You’re lucky to have a sentinel like him.”

Blair thought about Jim holding his hand and how that simple gesture somehow banished the cold. “Yes, I’m lucky,” he agreed.

But Jim didn’t want him. He might be softening a little, but Blair was sure that was only because things were finally going his way. Jim didn’t want the bond, and they were in a place that gave him hope it could be broken.

The corridor descended sharply and the air became colder. Ahead was a door...or, not really a door. It was more like a gate: wood slats with gaps between them, but filling the doorway. Through the gaps, Blair could see sunlight. Well, it made sense that a garden would be outside.

Tomlii pushed the gate open for him, but hung back. “He will be waiting for you.”

“Thanks.” Blair walked out into the sunlight.

Strangely, he did not feel too cold even though he was outside. The garden was very green; there was a thick carpet of grass with shrubs and trees all around. There were birds singing in the trees. Blair didn’t see flowers, but perhaps it was the wrong time of year for that. He saw a pathway made by many feet walking across the grass and he followed it. The pathway led him around the shrubbery and onto a slope that overlooked...

Blair gasped when he saw the view. The sunlight was so bright, reflecting off the jagged mountain peaks and the mirrored lake below. But the sun wasn’t hot and scorching, as it was on Perchen. It warmed gently and with subtlety. It gave Blair a humbling sense of how big this planet was. Perchen was larger, but its inhabitable areas were small and confined. Not so here. There was a huge vista and all of it alive and welcoming.

“Blair.”

The shaman’s quiet voice drew his attention and he turned away, raising a hand to shield his eyes so he could see clearly past the brightness.

“Come.”

Blair obeyed, following the shaman to a grassy area in the shadow of three trees. Two logs, stripped clean of bark, had been placed there, and between them was a clay pot, wisps of smoke rising from it.

Blair sat on one of the logs when the shaman indicated he should, and as he sat he smelled the smoke from the pot, woody and warm. It reminded him, bizarrely, of the smell of hot sand.

The shaman sat on the other log. “I know this will not be easy for you,” he said gently. “If I am to help you and Jim, you must tell me everything that happened when you bonded. This is not a question of right and wrong. I will not judge your actions. But I must know _everything_ , or I may not be able to help you.”

“I don’t remember much,” Blair admitted.

“That’s why we are here. The herbs will sharpen your focus and help you to remember. I will lead you through the memory. Shall we begin?”

Blair took a deep breath and tasted the smoke. “I’m ready.”

*

By the time the Shaman was finished with him, Blair felt light-headed and strange. When he stood, he felt so unsteady he sat down again, hard.

The Shaman offered Blair his hand. “You need food and drink,” he said.

Blair took the offered hand and the Shaman helped him up. “My head is spinning.”

“That’s to be expected. Food and drink, Blair. It will ground you and anchor your mind in the present.” He led Blair from the garden.

They walked slowly through the corridors. Blair wasn’t sure he could have moved quickly. They walked in silence until they reached the door that marked the corridor they were leaving as a restricted area.

Here, the Shaman paused before the door. “I will send for you and Jim in a few hours. Don’t forget to eat and drink.”

“I won’t,” Blair promised. He had every intention of taking the Shaman’s advice, but he found Jim waiting for him when he entered the atrium. He was pacing, and Blair guessed Jim had been there for some time.

“Jim,” he said, quietly so as not to disturb the tranquillity of the atrium.

Jim came toward him with a look of relief. He was carrying two packages wrapped in brightly-coloured cloth. He offered them to Blair.

“I bought these for you,” he said. No greeting. No _are you okay?_ , though his expression said he had been worried.

Blair accepted the bundles. “I thought you were going to wait.”

“I’m tired of you freezing my ass off,” Jim said grumpily. “This will help.”

That took some of the pleasure out of the gift, but Blair managed a smile anyway. “Thanks. I’m tired of shivering, too.”

“Go change.”

Blair hurried back to his room to open the packages. The first contained two outfits of local clothing: pants and tunics made from soft embroidered fabric. The first outfit was blue: dark blue pants with pale trim and a tunic in every shade of blue from deep violet to the blue-green of the glaciers. The second outfit was brown and gold, the colouring more subtle. Though he loved the blue outfit, Blair tried on the second. It fit perfectly. Jim had amazing spatial awareness to have guessed Blair’s size so accurately.

In the second bundle, Blair found a full-length cloak. He threw it over his shoulders at once. The cloak was dark grey, without the fancy embroidery of the outfits, but it was by no means plain. It was made of four layers. The longest, inner layer was the same soft fabric as the outfits and fell to just above the ground when Blair wore it. The next layer was a hand’s-width shorter, a coarser fabric with pleats and texturing sewn in, making it seem more bulky than it was. The third layer fell just below Blair’s hips and was patterned in shades of grey, subtle and irregular as if the fabric had been crumpled and intentionally left to fade in the sunlight. The outer layer was thicker, almost like animal fur, a snug collar and a fall of cloak to his elbows. Blair turned around and the movement made the cloak flare outward slightly. He loved it, and already felt the benefit. He felt warm.

 


	10. Tremainine (2)

The Shaman took in Blair’s change of clothing with a brief smile. “Our climate doesn’t suit you, does it?”

Blair drew the cloak more closely around himself. “I find it beautiful. I’m just used to a place that’s much warmer. I’ll adapt.”

“I know you will. Please, sit, both of you.”

The Shaman’s room was a circular chamber with decorated walls. There were a number of seating options: wooden chairs, a couple of padded stools, even cushions on the floor. Blair selected a stool and sat down, the cloak pooling around him.

Jim walked past Blair to a wooden chair with carved arms. Jim was impatient for answers and Blair didn’t need the bond to know that.

The Shaman chose a straight-backed chair opposite Jim’s. “First, I must ask both of you to be absolutely truthful. Are you certain you want this bond undone?”

“Yes,” Blair answered at once, but he knew that wasn’t quite true.

“Yes,” Jim answered, almost as quickly.

“You have doubts,” the Shaman said. It didn’t sound like a question.

Blair nodded reluctantly. “It frightens me. I have always been told that without a bond I’ll die. When I lost my...” He swallowed and tried again. “When Ash died, it didn’t kill me but I lost my mind. So, yeah, I have doubts. But Ash wasn’t just my bond-mate. I loved him. I need...” Blair looked at Jim. “I need to be able to mourn him, and I can’t.”

The Shaman’s eyes were fixed on Blair, waiting for him to continue. Blair sighed. “Even if breaking the bond kills me, it’s the right thing to do. Jim didn’t ask for this.”

The Shaman turned to Jim.

After a moment, Jim shrugged. “He’s right, I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want it. But I don’t want Blair harmed, either.”

The Shaman nodded. “Unweaving your bond will not kill Blair. It can be done, but it will be be unpleasant for both of you.”

“I don’t care how unpleasant it is,” Jim declared. “How do we break it?”

“It is easy to explain, but not so easy to do. First, you must accept this as truth.” The Shaman met Jim’s eyes, and Blair felt scared. “Forming a bond is _always_ a mutual process. Blair could not have forced this on you if you had not, for a brief moment, accepted it.”

“I didn’t,” Jim protested, but the Shaman interrupted him.

“You described it to me yourself, Jim. You believed you were dying. A voice in your mind promised help and you saw a hand offered. You grasped that hand.”

Blair’s stomach was tying itself into knots. He hadn’t known how it was to Jim.

“That formed the bond,” Jim said softly.

“The moment you accepted it, even if it was only for a moment, the bond was forged,” the Shaman confirmed. “What you must understand is that even though you are not aware of it, part of you is still grasping that hand. To undo the bond, you must once again find that mental state and then simply...let go.”

“Let go? I’ve been pushing him away since – ”

“It may not make sense to you, but fighting the bond in the way you have been is not letting go of it. In fact, it binds you tighter.”

“You’re right, that doesn’t make sense.”

The Shaman was unruffled. “It will. Our challenge will be to find your access to the place where you bonded.”

Jim made a sharp _stop_ gesture. “If you mean what it sounds like...Shaman, I was dying.”

“I am not saying it is necessary to recreate the exact circumstances. It is the mental and emotional state, the thing that made you reach for the offered bond, that we must recreate. It will not be comfortable, but I believe we can do it without endangering your life.”

Jim said grimly, “It doesn’t matter. If I have to die to break it, that’s what I’ll do.”

The Shaman turned to Blair. “You will begin your training tomorrow. You will work hard and do everything your teacher instructs.”

Blair was taken aback by the abrupt change of focus. For a moment he gaped at the Shaman, speechless. Then his brain processed the words. “Yes. Yes, of course I will. Thank you.”

He saw the tiniest hint of a smile. “You may not thank me when you meet your teacher. But Suni is our best fit for you.”

Blair wasn’t sure if that was intended to scare him, but if so it fell flat. He hadn’t met any of their teachers except the Shaman so if Suni was particularly formidable he didn’t know it. “Thank you for the opportunity,” he said sincerely. “I won’t disappoint you.”

“I suggest you both spend some time together this evening. The bond is draining your energy because you both fight it. You must support each other while we work to unweave it.”

Blair opened his mouth to say they’d already figured that out, but Jim spoke first.

“We will, Shaman. There’s a performance at the lake tonight I think Blair will enjoy. I was going to suggest we go and watch.”

Blair smiled. “Sure, Jim. That sounds like fun.”

*

Blair and Jim sat together at the evening meal. The meal was a colourful mix of vegetables and beans, which Blair loved because the vegetables were so moist without being greasy. So unlike Perchen food. It almost reminded him of his childhood on Avaline.

As he finished his meal, someone in a shaman’s robe appeared at his elbow. Blair looked up.

“I am Suni,” she said, her voice soft and melodious. “May we speak?” Her gesture indicated she wanted him to leave the table.

Blair glanced quickly at Jim, then he stood. “Of course.” He followed her to the edge of the room where they could talk with some privacy.

Blair was small for a man, but Suni barely reached his shoulder. She was perfectly in proportion, though: a slim body, narrow hips and small breasts just visible beneath her shaman’s robe. Her hair was grey, but Blair saw few signs of age in her face: the lines around her eyes were very light and there was no sagging of her neck or jaw muscles. Her eyes were glittering fire: alive, ageless and strong.

“If we are to overcome the damage done to your pathfinder abilities, you will have to do three things,” she announced without preamble.

Blair wanted to protest that his abilities were just fine, but the flash of her eyes silenced him.

“First, no more sex. Not with your bond-mate or anyone else. That includes masturbation.”

“Why?” Blair blurted. It wasn’t an objection; he just wanted to understand. He saw Jim choke on a mouthful of vegetables and felt his face heat knowing Jim was listening.

“Second,” Suni said firmly, “you will do as I tell you without asking questions.”

That shut Blair up, but instantly even more questions filled his head. He was never going to be able to hold them in for long. He had not enjoyed the things he’d been expected to do on Perchen, but he had always understood the reasons. He was allowed to ask questions; he just wasn’t allowed to refuse.

Suni gave him an appraising look. “Because a true pathfinder will understand the reasons without having to hear them. As you progress, the answers will become clear to you.”

That was frustrating, but Blair nodded. “Okay. What’s the third thing?”

“Trust me. Trust that nothing I ask you to do will harm you. This is important. There will be moments during your training when you doubt it. Can you do these three things?”

“I think so. Yes.” It wasn’t entirely true, but what else could he say?

Blair could see she wasn’t fooled, but she let his lie pass. “Good. You will attend the sunrise ceremony and wait for me after.”

Blair, used to living on a planet on which “sunrise” happened three times a day, didn’t think about what that meant. “I’ll be honoured,” he said sincerely.

Suni nodded and walked away without speaking further.

Blair returned to Jim.

Jim refilled Blair’s cup with the sweet water so plentiful here. “She knew you were lying,” he said casually.

“I’m not!” Blair protested.

“Ten credits says you can’t go a day without breaking rule one.”

“If I had ten credits, I’d take that bet,” Blair said hotly. “Why do you care anyway? We’re not having sex.”

“I _don’t_ care, wolf-boy. I just think it’s funny you don’t know why she made that a rule.” Jim drained his cup and reached across the table for Blair’s empty plate as he began to stack their used dishes. “Are you done?”

“I think so. Do you want to walk down to the lake like the shaman suggested?”

“Yeah. I could do with clearing my head after all those tests.” Jim got up to return their plates and mugs to the stack.

*

Something was happening at the lake. At first, Blair thought some kind of ship was docked there.

“That’s new,” Jim commented as they walked down the pathway toward the town. “A show, you think?”

Blair looked again. “I have no idea. Is it a ship?”

“No. It’s an auditorium of some kind. I’ve never seen one built so fast, but it looks like a strong structure.”

“What kind of show happens on a stage made of water?” Blair asked, fascinated.

“Let’s find out.”

They had to enter the town to get to the auditorium, because a bridge connecting it to the town was the only way in. Jim paid their entry fee without even asking what the show was: whatever it was it appeared to be popular. Blair didn’t care either: it was on water, so it was exciting to him.

The auditorium was made of rows and rows of seats in concentric, rising circles surrounding what appeared to be an empty circle of water. Was there going to be a boat? Surely no one would swim – it was dark and cold. Jim selected a row about halfway up and led Blair to an empty pair of seats. People were packed in so tightly that it was impossible for them to sit together without touching. It should have been awkward, but Blair felt comfortable pressed up against Jim’s side.

“What are we going to see?” Blair asked.

“Just wait and see,” Jim suggested. “It will start soon.”

Three large, glowing balls floated out over the water. A moment before it looked black; the lights illuminated its stunning natural blue-green colour, with silver-tipped ripples on the surface. A moment later, something stirred beneath the water. Blair smiled to himself, anticipating something new. The crowd around them began to settle down.

Something was happening to the water. It was becoming paler, maybe duller. That didn’t make sense. The lights above the water dimmed and Blair decided it was just a trick of the light. The watching crowd was utterly silent.

Light blazed. There was a woman standing on the water! Only, it wasn’t water any longer: it was ice. The woman wore a brick-red costume that shimmered in the light. It was skin-tight from her neck to her hips where it became a fringe of ribbons, each one weighted with gold coins that swung around her knees. On her feet were red boots with silver blades beneath the soles. _Skates,_ Blair’s memory supplied.

Then the music began and the woman began to dance.

It was stunning. The music came from all around them, beginning light and airy as the dancer moved in circles. Her dress caught every photon and threw them back at her audience. The ice undulated and her dance followed it, up and down the slopes of the ice. Then Blair realised she wasn’t always touching the ice. Somehow, as she reached the top of each slope, she was rising above the surface of the ice. It wasn’t a jump – she remained airborne as if gravity had no effect on her.

The music soared as her dance became a flight and beneath her the ice shifted again, growing into a field of spiky ice stalagmites. The audience ooh-ed, appreciating the risk she had created. The dancer spun and swirled in the air.

Slowly, she began to descend, her arms outstretched, as if they were wings. The ice spikes disappeared and the surface of the ice smoothed out. As she dipped and whirled her skate touched the ice. It appeared to scoop up the ice crystals and, as her flight raised her over the audience opposite Jim and Blair, a glittering rain fell gently upon them. Most of the people there raised their faces, catching the glitter on their hair and cheeks.

Blair clutched at Jim’s arm suddenly. Jim glanced at him, saw that Blair was staring across the ice at the audience, and tried to follow his gaze. He saw someone with their back to the ice, making his way past the others in the row. The people he eased past were not happy to be disturbed.

“What?” Jim asked.

“He found me,” Blair whispered. “I mean, us.”

That was all it took. Instantly alert, Jim focussed on the people opposite. “The one who’s leaving?”

“No! There!” Blair raised a hand to point.

Jim grabbed his hand, arresting the gesture. “Just tell me.” But as the words left his lips, Jim saw what Blair must have seen. Tall, broad-shouldered, his skin darker than was normal on Perchen, and dark enough to stand out here: it was the man who had re-checked Jim’s credentials when he first arrived at the Archon’s palace.

“Who is he?” Jim asked.

“His name is Simon. He was my guard. Or keeper.”

“Do you see anyone else you know?”

Blair hesitated. “No. But Simon’s enough. He’s – ” Blair began to get up.

“It doesn’t matter.” Jim pulled him back into his seat. “Sit down! We stay until the show ends.”

“But – ”

“We’ve got a much better chance if we leave in a crowd.” He kept Blair’s hand in his to hold him in the seat. “Try to relax, Blair. If you can’t, fake it.”

Beneath them, a plume of ice began to rise from the lake. The dancer pirouetted, leapt and landed at the peak of the plume. She held the pose: both arms raised, one leg outstretched. Beneath her, the ice rose in an ever-widening spiral as the music surged to a crescendo. She was level with Jim’s eyeline when she began to slide down the ice-spiral, faster and faster until she reached the bottom...and vanished. The music stopped so suddenly it was deafening. There was silence for a second. And another second. Then the applause began. People stood, cheering, calling for more.

Jim stood, still holding Blair’s hand, and scanned the audience for Simon, for anyone watching them instead of the slowly-melting ice. He saw no one, but didn’t trust it. He had to assume they were being watched.

He waited until the audience broke up and people began to move toward the exits. There were several ways to leave the seating area but, unfortunately, all exits led to the single bridge that would take them from the lake back to the town. There was no other way.

“Stay close to me,” Jim said, and led Blair by the hand into the thickest part of the crowd. The rush of people headed for the exits wasn’t pleasant, but Jim was glad to have the cover. He wasn’t well prepared for a battle, but it was unlikely to come to that while they were in the town. Tremainine authorities took a hard line against violence of any kind, so this Simon would avoid that as long as there were witnesses. Jim had to assume Simon’s goal was to take Blair back to Perchen and that he would do anything to achieve that. But Blair had seen only Simon, which suggested he was working alone or with a small team – no more than five, Jim guessed, because a larger group wasn’t good at stealth. That meant they would attempt to snatch Blair and get him away quickly. If they knew that the _Panther_ was here with only a skeleton crew, and that Jim was Blair’s only protection planetside, Simon was probably confident that would work.

Too many assumptions in that, but it was all Jim had to work with. A snatch wasn’t likely in town and it would be impossible on the Khyme estate. The pathway between the town and Khyme – that’s where they would be most vulnerable.

They allowed the tide of people to carry them toward the bridge. Jim pulled Blair closer to his side. “How fast can you run?” he asked, leaning close to Blair’s ear so he wouldn’t have to shout.

“Not very,” Blair answered. “I didn’t get much exercise.”

“We’ve got two choices, kid. Either we risk going back to Khyme or we hole up in town. Either way is risky. If we go back, Simon will try to take us on the path. We’ll be expecting it, but that might not be enough. If we stay, maybe he doesn’t find us tonight. But if he does, we won’t be ready, and we’ll still have to go back in the morning.”

“I don’t want to stay here. I feel safe at Khyme.”

“You _are_ safe there. It’s getting you there that’s dangerous.” Jim didn’t want to stay in town, either. He scanned the crowd around them but still saw nothing suspicious. It was hard to tell if they were being followed with everyone headed in the same direction, but Jim saw no one paying unusual attention to them.

They were almost out. The last gate was a triple arch: a large central arch with smaller openings to left and right, but all three arches led to the same place.

Jim guided Blair toward the left. “This way.” Khyme was to the right. Jim headed toward the market. The market itself would be over now, but there were several restaurants that would probably be open to catch trade from the people now leaving the ice theatre. That would give them enough people around to be safe.

Once they were free of most of the crowd Jim pulled out his comm. “Ellison to _Panther_.”

It took a few seconds for Megan to answer. “ _Panther_ here. What’s wrong?”

“We’ve got company. Did a ship get past you? Or did you just forget to warn me?” He knew it was harsh, but he was in trouble.

Megan didn’t complain. “We’ve been running a tight net, Captain. The only way we missed a new arrival is if they got here first.”

That wasn’t impossible. “What about an encap. ship?”

“No, there’s been nothing big enough. Jim, what do you need?”

He _needed_ a team on the ground to back him up, but he knew there weren’t enough people aboard for that. He ran through the personnel in his mind. There wasn’t anyone he didn’t need aboard the _Panther_ more than he needed backup. “I’ll take care of it tonight,” he told her, seeing no alternative. “But I need someone here at first light to pick up the shuttle. Next time I need backup I want to know you can respond.”

“Will do,” Megan answered, “but what if...”

“It’s a gamble, I know, but the shuttle is at Khyme. If we’re there, we’re safe, so we can afford to wait around for pickup.”

“What if you’re in trouble _now_?” she insisted.

“Of course we’re in trouble! I’ve just got to deal with it. Watch the skies for me, partner.” He meant that if he failed to protect Blair, Megan would have to save him.

“I want you to check in.”

“I’ll leave the trans open if you want,” Jim offered.

“Even better.”

He set it to open trans, no record. “Done. Thanks, Megan.” To Blair, Jim said, “Turn your cloak inside out. It’s not much, but a little misdirection can’t hurt.” He pulled this own tunic hood over his head so it concealed most of his face in shadow. He didn’t really expect this to work. It would fool an amateur, but a professional would have eyes to cut through the darkness, targeted trackers, weapons that would slide through security scans...and years of training and experience that counted for more than all the technology.

Blair’s doubtful expression as he shook out his cloak told Jim he knew it, too.

“We’re going through the square, then we’ll pick up the path to Khyme from the other side,” he said for Megan’s benefit as much as to Blair. “Stay close to me, but not so close you’ll be in the way if we’re attacked. An attack of some kind is certain, so if I tell you to run, run. Don’t look back, don’t wait for me. Don’t stop until you reach Khyme or if you can’t go that way, back here. Do you understand?”

Blair frowned. “Yes, but what if you’re hurt? Or – ”

“That’s not your problem,” Jim said, then reconsidered. “Blair, I know the bond complicates this, but it’s my job to protect _you_ not the other way around. Megan’s listening. If anything happens to me she knows what to do. _Your job_ is to get yourself to Khyme.”

Blair nodded. “Okay, man.” But he didn’t like it. The thought came through so clearly it felt like telepathy.

What Jim didn’t say – couldn’t say, to Blair – was that Megan’s priority was protecting Blair, not Jim himself. She wouldn’t willingly abandon Jim. They had been through too much together for that. But Blair was their paycheck. Jim could take an injury to ensure he could pay his crew.

He led Blair along the route he’d described. With the trans open, Megan could map his movement onto a model of the landscape. She would know exactly where he was. They went through the open market gate, past the closed and covered stalls and then through the town wall by the side gate. From that point, they were in danger.

Jim activated his personal shield, on setting two so he would be able to touch Blair if necessary. Jim could see in the dark and had confidence in his own physical ability; if he had been alone, he would have run. With Blair at his side, he had to settle for walking quickly. He was alert, listening for footfalls or tracker ticks, watching for any movement at all in the shadows. He knew it wasn’t enough. For a moment, Jim wished he really was a sentinel. With Blair’s help, he’d be able to scan their surroundings perfectly.

He spoke quietly, for Blair and for Megan. “I don’t think we were followed. If Simon got to this planet ahead of us, that means he knew or guessed we’re heading for Khyme. If we assume that, it follows he’ll try to take us out here.”

“A lot of assumptions there,” Megan warned.

Blair asked, “How could he have beaten us here?”

“Coming to Tremainine was your idea,” Jim pointed out. “If Simon knows you, could he have predicted this?”

“I don’t think he’s that smart,” Blair said dubiously.

“Underestimating the enemy because you think he’s just muscle is a big mistake,” Jim said. With his reputation and appearance, people often made the same assumption about him. It could be an effective strategy.

Jim felt a chill and Blair pulled his cloak more closely around him. It was cold on the mountainside. Jim stopped for a moment, looking ahead. The path was exposed with nowhere near it for an attacker to hide. How would _he_ do it?

Tremainine permitted _no_ flying vehicles without a detailed flight plan and none at all in darkness. Sure, you could defy the rules but Tremainine Air Control came down hard on offenders which would make leaving the planet difficult, so Jim would only take that option if he were desperate. No, a blitz attack to get rid of the guard – Jim himself – then take the target by whatever means necessary. Do it fast, worry about the target’s condition later.

*

The path was steep but smooth and not difficult to climb. On both sides of the path, gently glowing lines showed Blair where to walk. Above were the gently twinkling lights of Khyme, much too far away. To his right, Blair could see the cabins among the trees on the next mountain: conical lights of different colours. Blair idly wondered if there was a planet where glowing trees grew naturally. That was what the cabins looked like to him, and it was beautiful. Then he wondered how he could think about pretty trees when he was so scared.

He had known, of course, that the Archon would send someone after him. He was worth too much to the Archon for him to let Blair go. But he’d sent _Simon_.

Simon’s presence on Tremainine meant two things. First, the Archon didn’t want anyone to know Blair had escaped. Blair wasn’t sure why, but it couldn’t be a bad thing. It _might_ be something to do with the Xantrisi cartel... Second, the Archon believed Simon would get the job done. Simon was good, but that much confidence meant he had either offered Simon a huge reward or, more likely, was threatening him. Or both. It meant Simon would do _anything_ to take Blair back to Perchen. He would not stop. He could not be bought or dissuaded. Was it an accident that they saw him at the ice show? Blair didn’t think it was. Simon wanted them to see him there. But why?

Why was Khyme so far away? He felt like he’d been climbing forever and those lights were no closer. He was breathing hard and his breath showed white on the cold air. That was so weird, like he was breathing out smoke.

Behind him, Jim said, “Nothing so far. There isn’t an ambush point up here so we might be okay.” After a brief silence, he said, “Four to five minutes, I think,” in answer to a question Blair couldn’t hear.

The colour of the guide-lights ahead changed from white to blue, indicating they were leaving public land and entering the Khyme estate. Blair knew it was foolish to relax just because he’d crossed an invisible boundary, but he still felt the tension in his back and shoulders ease. Khyme simply felt safe to him.

And that was when Blair felt a searing pain in his shoulder. Jim cried out. Blair realised it was Jim’s pain he felt. He turned to help in time to see Jim fall to his knees on the path.

“No! Run!” Jim yelped. His hand went to his shoulder, reaching behind him for whatever was causing the pain. “Run!” he yelled hoarsely when Blair stood frozen.

Blair obeyed. It turned out he could run pretty fast when he was terrified. All the way to Khyme’s door, he expected to feel something pierce his own flesh. But all he felt was Jim’s pain, a burning point getting worse as Jim pulled on the projectile.

He pounded on the emergency panel beside the door. “Help! Help us!”

The door dilated open and several people in acolyte robes appeared.

“He’s been hit,” Blair told them breathlessly, pointing back down the path. Three of the acolytes ran in that direction. Two others tried to hustle Blair inside. Blair remembered Jim’s trans was still open, transmitting everything to Megan aboard the _Panther_. He didn’t know Megan, but she needed to know what was happening. He allowed the acolytes to bring him through the doorway but went no further. He waited there for Jim. It was so dark out there, he couldn’t see where Jim was or what was happening. It seemed like hours before the acolytes appeared, two supporting Jim between them. There was a lot of blood, but Jim was walking.

Jim met his eyes and muttered into the comm, “Yeah, we’re both safe. First light, Connor.”

*

Khyme’s medical facility was extensive but not advanced. They provided rehabilitative care to the local community and were equipped with hospital facilities for their own people. Jim refused anaesthetic and gritted his teeth while a surgeon removed the needle dart from his shoulder. She handed the bloody dart to Jim and he saw the barbed point. Vicious, and it explained why it hurt so much when he tried to pull it out himself. The surgeon covered his wound with an analgesic gel. It worked swiftly and Jim saw Blair’s features relax as his pain faded. Blair rubbed his own, unhurt, shoulder in obvious relief.

The infirmary was divided into pods, each containing a medical bed that was unlike anything Jim had seen on Cascadion or any of the other worlds he had visited. It was a large, egg-shaped cushion that could be adjusted to form a soft bed, a recliner, a chair or a firm platform depending on the needs of the moment. It could hover at waist height for a doctor to examine the patient and lower itself to the floor when the patient slept.

The surgeon spoke briefly to Blair as she left and Blair carried an overstuffed cushion into the pod. He set it beside Jim’s bed and sat down.

“Are we safe here?” Blair sounded very scared.

“I checked out security before we came here. Khyme looks like a simple monastery but they protect their lifestyle here by making sure no one can get inside to disrupt it. If the shamans decide we’re a threat they might throw us out, but as long as we’re inside it would take a well planned strike with air support. Tough to manage here, and impossible without the _Panther_ noticing.”

Jim offered the dart to Blair. “Do you know anything about this?”

Blair turned the dart over in his fingers. It was small: only the length of Blair’s smallest finger and very thin.

“It was treated with some kind of poison, but they gave me an antidote,” Jim told him. “It’s a warning, I think.”

“Some warning! It could have killed you!”

Jim shook his head. “If that was the plan, he’d have shot me closer to the town.”

Blair twirled the dart in his fingers. “The Perchen tribes use these to track their prey.”

“Explain.”

“The desert bison don’t thrive if they’re domesticated. Herds are allowed to roam free and the tribes don’t own the animals, but the territory they move through. When a hunting party selects one to kill, they dart the chosen animal first with something like this. It has a locator in the shaft. That way, if the bison dies on another tribe’s land they can still claim the kill. A single bison is worth three days water for the tribe, so it matters a lot.”

“There’s no tracker in this dart.”

“No, but you can see the hollow section where it should be,” Blair turned the dart to show him, though Jim had already seen it. That little hollow tube had been filled with poison. “Was it Simon? Did you see him?”

Jim shifted and rubbed his shoulder. It no longer hurt, but the muscles felt tight and uncomfortably. “It must have been him, but no, I didn’t see anyone. They were behind me.”

“I can heal that for you,” Blair offered.

“By fucking me? I prefer the pain.”

“It wouldn’t have to be – ” Blair began.

Jim scowled at him.

Suddenly, Blair found his backbone. “Don’t be such a child,” he snapped and reached for Jim’s hand.

All it took was a touch to activate the bond between them. Jim felt it as a low tingle of sexual heat, a pleasant tightening in his body. He didn’t want to feel that way about Blair. He _didn’t_ feel that way! He tried to pull his hand away, but Blair gripped him tightly and after a moment, Jim gave up.

Still holding his hand, Blair sat back and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. “Just relax,” he muttered and the words might have been meant for himself or for Jim.

Whatever. Jim relaxed into the bed and let Blair do his thing. As he relaxed, he felt Blair in his mind. It was a fuzzy kind of feeling, not like the vision they shared when the bond was formed. It was intrusive, but Jim knew Blair meant no harm.

His shoulder felt no different. Jim sighed and took a deep breath. If Blair touched more than Jim’s hand, Jim would hurt him. But this wasn’t so bad. He could let Blair do his thing.

Until Jim’s memory served up the image of Blair back on Perchen, his body twined with Ash’s, his full lips wrapped around Ash’s cock. _No, don’t think about that_. Desperately, he reached for another memory to distract him and found one.

_a woman’s black eyes gazing at him through the glass that separated them, tears shining on her cheeks. She refuses to look away from him. In a way, that is good: Jim can concentrate on her and not the other people with her in the hold. His hand rests on the wall beside the airlock control. She weeps, but does not beg. Then the comm chimes, and Jim, his heart racing, asks for the result._

_He listens as his ship’s doctor delivers the verdict. His chest hurts as his fingers creep toward the control panel. She moves toward the glass, shaking her head in denial. Jim sees the panic in her eyes, sees her lips move, forming a No. His finger finds the button. He pushes it. The alarm blares and the hold fills with red light. Now Jim cannot ignore the surge of people heading toward him. But it is too late. “I’m sorry,” he says aloud, uselessly. The hatch bursts open, exposing the hold to space. He turns away, sick to his stomach._

Jim yanked his hand away from Blair’s, but breaking the physical contact didn’t break their connection. It couldn’t. For a moment, Blair fought to hold their minds and hands together, then he released Jim’s hand. He released the connection slowly of their minds more slowly and saw him roll his shoulder. Blair took the injury into his own body, he remembered, then healed it rapidly, but not completely. He touched his own shoulder and felt no trace of the dart or the injury it left.

Blair opened his eyes.

“What did you do?” Jim demanded angrily.

“I healed you.”

“You did more than that.”

Blair sighed. “It wasn’t intentional. I had to go deep and I saw something from your memory. I’m sorry. But Jim...what was that?”

“Eyann,” Jim answered shortly.

 


End file.
